Christine Fleming

My father told me not to dye my hair red, so I dyed my hair blue,
My father told me not to fall for boys, so I fell for you.

You, with your bright eyes and brighter smile
And even without the sound of your voice,
I can see thoughts brimming uncontrollably, rising like seafoam

A brush with you is like a brush with death
Always looming, never escapable, often consuming people whole
That must be what it’s like to love

I was not supposed to fall for you
My clothes, feminine as can be, sway like the movements of the ocean
My lips, painted pink, will always hide a sharp tongue
That houses words that die the minute I see you

I was supposed to like the boy with an unending stream of thought,
I was supposed to like the boy who sang melodies that broke my heart,
I was supposed to like the boy who always had a smile,
I was supposed to like a boy.

In defiance though, I stand proudly, albeit anonymously,
Because your eyes might be watchful, but mine are far more careful
Behind pinked lips, behind a gentle grin, behind everything that I am
I will never let you know that this is for you.