I Choose

“I hear, but I choose to listen.”

I hear, but I choose to listen.

I see when I choose to look.

I know what I’m ready to know.

I still feel like you’re the one.

When Desire Breaks Its Own Mirror

“Attraction isn’t betrayal.
Shock is what happens when imagination outpaces truth.”

The most unsettling thing that can happen to a man

isn’t attraction—

it’s attraction without context.

Hear me out.

A friend of mine—

fully heterosexual, deeply drawn to women.

Their shape. Their beauty. Their presence.

He sees someone who fits the image perfectly.

Body sculpted. Face soft. Confidence natural.

Desire forms fast.

Instinct does what it’s trained to do.

Something feels off.

The name doesn’t align.

The behavior doesn’t settle.

Later, the truth arrives—not gently.

The person he imagined

was never who he thought they were.

And that’s where the damage happens.

Not in attraction—

but in the collapse of projection.

When the image you love becomes unattainable,

the mind scrambles to protect itself.

Shock turns to grief.

Grief sharpens into anger.

Not because of deception—

but because fantasy was allowed to replace knowing.

This is what happens

when imagination builds faster than reality can correct it.

Pain doesn’t come from desire.

It comes from the moment desire realizes

it never asked enough questions.

Bed Light

I move in and out.

They move in.

Then they move out.

My bed light is the moon now.

From a horizontal vantage point,

I watch the sun escort the day

out of the sky—

applause fading behind it.

The co-star is on its way.

The moon becomes my bed light

when the room is darker inside.

I put the North Star aside.

A shooting star survives

above the level of disguise.

If you looked closely,

you’d see the spark in my eyes—

you’d know the moon is my bed light.

I’m a gemstone,

refreshed by what I’ve survived,

aligned just in time.

Light on my skin—obsidian,

maybe onyx.

This is what I promised myself:

one day,

the moon would be my bed light.