Tattoo On My Heart

Pt 1.

My whole left arm is dedicated to you.

to us.

the sun and the moon.

the pot and the lace

and now this:

a pile of stones

stacked to commemorate a moment that says:

"something happened here".

and lest you forget the cross and infinity symbol etched across my lift ring finger.

Isn't that more significant than

the white dress I wore for 2 hours

nine years ago?

Or the vows we wrote

that we didn't know

we couldn't keep

because they weren't ever.

even. attainable.

What says "forever"

better than a tattoo?

The ink is on my skin

is in my skin.

it is my skin.

it has been grafted to me

like rewritten DNA

And you. you and me.

we're apart of each other

and in each other

we rewrote the DNA in us to make

our littles.

That transcends love.

That transcends ecstacy.

That transcends the nine year contract

we've forged.

that. is forever.

So that's what you are to me.

a tattoo upon my heart and within my soul. literally and figuratively with me for all time.

even when promises are broken

and covenants aren't kept

when the tattoos fade to blobs of ink

the intent along with the memory of it

will prevail

And when the lines on my face are more defined

than the ones on my arm

we'll still be

people don't get married for the promise of today

but nine years later and that's all I know.

I can't give you tomorrow but I can give you a kind of forever that means more than any promise of the future could.

I don't know what else I can do.

it's literally everything I have.

And it's all yours.

Pt. 2

"Were you ever sexually attracted to me?"

Not in the way you want.

But in the only way I feel attraction.

At least... I think

Now I'm not sure.

Your eyes water.

I can feel you close off next to me

and though we are practically touching,

you feel a million miles away.

But I haven't done anything wrong.

Am I wrong?

My first thought is: What can I do to be different for you?

And I swear I would if I could

But I can't tell you anything you want to hear because what if...

"You've never had sex with me for you"

Oh. I didn't know that.

"Did you ever have sex with her for you?"

I don't know. I don't remember.

Pt. 3

Do I blow us up or bleed to death internally?

Does an explosion do more damage than an implosion?

Who hurts more in each occurrence?

And why am I using these questions as the basis for which decision to make?

Cause I don't love myself enough

to believe an implosion is worse.

Pt.4

I'm gay

and it's all your fault.

Because you pushed me out of the closet

when you told the world you supported your

pansexual wife.

Before I was ready.

Before I knew.

When it was just an inkling.

That inkling was enough for me

The wondering and questioning was satisfied by the tiny space I made for it in my closet.

At least there, it could finally exist with the other parts of me I'm unsure of and it could get to know me there and I could try it on in privacy. See how it fits and what I look like with it on.

But the tiny space I made feels too small now

and my closet is forcing things out

And that's all because it needs room for this new thing that I didn't prepare enough space for because I didn't know I needed to until you...

came out for me.

Pt.5

So what now?

Stop pushing me out of this marriage.

Nothing has to change.

I don't want it to.

Panic Attack.

You hold me while I try to breathe.

But I can't.

A life without you...a life where I am the reason our kids don't have what I always believed was the standard...

I can't even make myself think of the possibilities.

And I don't want to... that's the things.

So why all of a sudden does it feel like I don't have a choice?

Why are you trying to make this choice for me?

Stop pushing me out of this marriage.

I didn't promise forever with you because I couldn't keep my hands off of you.

I didn't say, "I do" because you were some kind of sex god.

I never needed that and I don't need that now.

Why has our marriage been diminished to whatever sexual preferences we have?

I hate that.

I hate that wanting to have sex with a woman over a man means I should leave my husband.

I hate the word husband.

You aren't that. Not just that. My partner. My best fucking friend.

The decision to be with you was rooted in a trust and safety and mutual life path. It was grown in laughter and writing songs and the "green uvula connection". It was strengthened through trials and tears. It was solidified by our children's mirror like gaze. It is held together by all of these things and bound not by the license we signed or the witnesses that can attest to the promises made but by our respect and admiration and comfort in one another.

Who fucking cares about sex?

I know you do. And I'm sorry.

I'm sorry your perception of my perception of you does not align with what you always believed the standard was. I'm sorry I'm not who I was... who I thought I was. I'm sorry the idea of what we had is not what we have. I'm so damn sorry for all of the doubt and worry and insecurity I have sewed. And I'm sorry that no amount of affirmation can affirm.

But I'll keep telling you ok?

And I'll keep showing you.

And I'll keep being honest to myself and to us.

So stop pushing me out of this marriage.

ok?