in honor of Pride…..
I knew when everyone around me was talking about boys and all I could think about were her eyelashes. And the way they were like dancers, diving from lid to cheek. And when they mentioned the way the boys’ baby beards felt against them, I thought about her fingers, so soft, nails painted but chipping, tracing my veins and scars. The tiny hairs left alone on upper thigh that tickled. When they spoke about the smell of thick cologne left on them like a time stamp, I thought about her tincture of cigarettes and fabric softener. We inhaled all the stars given to us that night and grew drunk from their dust. I knew when they talked about how much it hurt, that they bled a little after but that was all part of it. When I could still feel the pattern of her knuckles inside me. No pain, just relief. I knew when that boy put his dick inside my mouth, and my teeth crumbled. And my tongue tore itself out. And all of my taste buds threw up their placards with misspelled words of criticism. Then, that first kiss from a girl. Eighteen years of my body misunderstanding itself and finally feeling free of question marks (for the moment). I knew when my limbs just leapt around her, not needing a voiceover or instructional manual to instruct me how. To remind me this is how it is supposed to be. I knew when it felt like home.
Aimee Herman 