Writer's Cramp entry--A true account of something that hasn't happened yet. Freeform
Let it roll off your tongue so easily
the definition so clear to you.
"My family is who I love,"
but still you spend it with nieces and great uncles you've never met.
And it's beautiful to love someone, anyone, even if just by blood.
Even if only by blood.
It sticks in my throat.
I can open a scrap book from my old house
so old, so cared for
but every page has people who refuse to look at me.
Uncles and grammies and nanas and papas who wont speak a word
because my love lies with another man.
I open my door for a friend.
Two. Three. More.
I'll never tell them what I think
how much they act as my family
but I think they know.
I spend my day with a patchwork quilt of messy people.
But that can be just as strong as blood, I think.