Androgynously, I cried

I cried,

the mascara

that I never wore,

darken tracks

down my hidden face,

too masculine

from the woman

I never appeared to be

but am.

As a man,

I wanted the paradox

coming out of you,

coming by me,

by my pain.

Your initiation to notice,

bleeds my joy.

I need that hurt

explained to me,

best by your example.

You are

more than enough reflection

to be my lead.

I am my veiled life

for you to walk through

as a tall field

of sunflower faces,

visually to blind you

into my next step

as a warm river

of rapids and swirling.

Safely keeping you curious,

as a harp

played without restraint,

for those blur fingers

seen as fury glimpses,

to strum your soul.

I cannot end

my teeming sigh

without your lips

parted in reply,

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