[Quick warm-up piece]

I just want to talk about it.

Dawn breaks across the horizon and bleeds sunlight through my blinds. My house warms with the rising sun, fills with the smell of freshly brewed tea. A candle crackles atop my table, spilling the aroma of pine and maple through my tiny abode. I sit upon my creaking couch, sinking into the cushion that needs replacing, and sip down the flavors of bergamot, of earth. 

I just want to talk about it.

My pride flag hangs from the guest loft, flowing down to cover the top of the bathroom entryway. The pink, orange, and white colors demand attention in contrast to the wood interior. It dances slowly whenever I open a window, whenever I walk past. 

I just want to talk about it. 

I still taste her on my lips, I still feel her arms around my stomach. Her fingers trace up and down my skin as she presses a kiss against the back of my head. A smile creeps its way onto my lips. We are divine in this moment. We are safe, and we are warm, and we are ourselves. 

I just want to talk about it.

I continue enjoying my morning drink, alone in the solitude of my small house. Its emptiness often brings me comfort, brings me security. Today, it brings me reflection.

I think on the years I spent hiding. The years I held a girl’s hand in secret. The years I wrapped my arms around her in the shadow of night, quiet as could be, and willed my door not to open as she fell asleep against my chest. I think of the fear, the terror. I think of my plan to jump off a bridge and end it all.

And I just want to talk about it.

To talk about how far I’ve come, to talk about my growth, my journey. To talk about how I stepped out of it all, about how I’m learning to let go of the fear, about how I’m finding safety in affection for the first time. How I can hold her in my arms and not be afraid of being found out. How I can kiss her and smile when she leans in for another. How I can entwine my fingers with hers and be grounded in the strength I find there. 

I want to talk about her. I want to talk about these feelings I’ve never been able to explore before. I want to climb to the top of my house and shout that I have a crush, that I want to kiss her, that I want to hold her against my chest and keep her there as long as I can manage. That I want to talk about her life, that I want to learn more about her and how she thinks and what she thinks about, that I want to lay in bed beneath the covers and hear her talk about her passions. 

I want to talk about it.

Because all my life, I never could.