my lesbian lover is a boy

written on 12/13/2022


my lover is a boy.

the thump of her boots resonates like a heartbeat in my chest. her hands are rough, gentle, scattered with the scars of her work and filled with the love the past has taught her. when she presses them against mine, when she holds me and I press my face into the collar of her leather jacket, I am filled with a sense that I am home.

my lover is a boy.

in jeans, jackets, and chains, with pins, clips, and gloves she walks tall and confident. she fills a room with her presence, and yet at the same time her heart has the softness of a child, filled with love, wonder, and passion all at once. she demands your eye, but offers nothing but the respect of a gentleman.

my lover is a boy.

she has felt pain living in her own skin. she has looked in the mirror, seen herself in dresses and skirts and long hair, and felt the striking pang that this is not who she is. for years she bowed her head to conformity and insisted this was what's real - but she knows herself now. she knows better. she knows that she can don her boots, buzzed hair, and deep adoration for women without shame.

my lover is a boy.

her code is that of a gentleman, and she matches mine in every way. she dances through lines of masculinity and femininity, knowing that she is not bound by their laws, and I follow her every step like a child. when she holds my door, when she pulls out my chair, when she ties my shoe and kisses my head - I know this is love. I know this is home.

my lover is light.

my lover is butch.

my lover is a boy.