Pink Plush: How I Discovered to Love Girls and Boys

By Breia Gore

7:23 AM
In kindergarten, there were pretty girls and nice boys who both took me in. Sometimes, I liked the girls a little more. Sometimes, I liked the boys a little more. But, my mother only gave me examples of love when talking about her husband.
She never mentioned the soft angels that could seduce me or their gums that bleed honey when you bite them. I knew a world of deluded love, intimacy that I could not name. These honeypot girls and these blue-eyed boys. Nobody helped me name it, no pinpoints for my love. I called it silence.

10:33 AM
Pink had came in wearing cream shoes with plush icing, wrapped in a cardigan I wish I had knitted for her. So, I could figuratively keep her warm. So, I could figuratively love her with this material around her cotton shoulders. So, I could figuratively believe that she would want me around her shoulders. I kept my mouth shut.

11:56 AM
He called me "Barbie doll", played with me like we were five. He said girls kissing girls would open up all sorts of heavenly gates and girls kissing girls brightened up a party the way beer pong happens on Saturday nights. He looks at their legs like meat skewers and mouths, just wet. I wanted to kiss them, too. But, not like that. Not like beer pong on Saturday nights.

3:38 PM
To walk down the cobblestones and want to kiss everybody was new. I tapped on glass and waited for an echo. If I had to find a match to my voice, it would have been a bastard crying for his mother.

6:30 PM
And the people push me and plant me on billboards as a leg opener just waiting for people to kiss. Like I am in kindergarten again at a lemonade stand that sells kisses free of charge and all the people look at me on the street corner, dirty. They look at me like nightlife. I do not want to kiss everyone. I just want to kiss the ones I love.

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