Men.

Could it ever be safe
to be with them,

(or even be one of them?)

The incongruence,
the contradictory
parts of me

lead to dissociation.

I flinch
when you draw near.

I beg
you to keep a distance.

I can't count
the weeks
I've been unable
to hold your gaze.

Feeling
out of place,
stuck in the between,
always wondering
where I belong.

And maybe
there are no answers.
Maybe I don't need
to force myself to
figure it out.

You say,
this isn't the
root of it all.

But surely,
it's something.

The heartache
of not knowing.
The question of
if I am or could be
or would ever be
enough

of a man.