There are two kinds of love.

Friends turned lovers.
Lovers turned lifers.

There are two kinds of love.

Mutual back rubs
from pretend boys.

There are two kinds of love.

Freckles, bangs, blue tongue.
Asthmatic laughs.

There are two kinds of love.

Heteronormativity,
but make it gauche.

There are two kinds of love.

Frozen hot chocolate
with real boys.

There are two kinds of love.

The one where I see the cuts,
the steamy mirror glances.

There are two kinds of love.

The one where instead
I write it in a Post Secret.

There are two kinds of love.

One you choose
and one you don’t.

There are two kinds of love.

But you can’t have your cake
and eat it, too.