Maybe there were fireflies in my belly,
And every time I touched you
They danced like princess ballerinas.
Maybe there were fireworks on the soles of my feet
And every time I looked at you
I danced like I was in space.
Maybe you were the tree roots
That grounded me,
There on the playground.
And maybe your name is blue
And not pink,
And mine is blue too,
But it didn’t matter.
You showed my playground castles
where a Royal Family is not defined by social status
but by the bonds that echo inside their palace,
where we can all be Kings and Queens
and a Prince can grow up to be a Queen
if he wants to be,
where Queens can kiss Queens
and Kings can kiss Kings.
You walked me across the drawbridge
into the field at sunset,
everything washed rainbow.
Even though I can’t see colors well,
I breathed in the air that filled my lungs
with color.
You told me that rainbows are circles,
not arches,
like a round dining table
where everyone can be seen and heard equally.
You told me that in our house
we would have a round dining table.
I save a placemat for you now
In our house that rests in our field of color.
I never got a chance to tell you
the way you made my cheekbones hurt
when you made me smile.
I never showed my teeth.
They hid underneath my lips
that you knew how to kiss so well.