You Better Be Lightning (Button Poetry)

by Andrea Gibson

I opened and opened until I could imagine the pain was the sensation of my spirit not breaking, that my mind was a parachute that could always open in time, that I could wear my heart on my sleeve and never grow out of that shirt. That every falling leaf is a tiny kite with a string too small to see, held by the part of me in charge of making beauty out of grief.

Up until then I hadn’t known what leather was. Didn’t know the rule that killing something made it worth more and my shoes had never screamed and therefore would never bleed the word cool all over the court.

She says often we are believing a lie when we believe time is what helps us see each other more clearly. Says to consider the opposite might be true. Consider the beginning might actually be when our hearts have perfect vision.

Remember when her laughter was a disco ball and everything around her sparkled— especially you. Remember when you could find no flaws, just quirks you would have worn on a charm bracelet.

What if the disco ball never stopped sparkling, something just closed your eyes? Your past, maybe? The terror you carry inside? The not enough or too much that raised you to do everything you could to ensure you’d be hurt more than you’d be loved.

it’s the most beautiful part of the queer community—how we’ve all lost so much family when we find people we call family, we’ll do almost anything to not say goodbye.

Each time she smiles, a bouquet of wildflowers will fly from her grandmother’s twenty-two-year-old hand and move through the air in slow motion, trying to find a way to land in the arms of the whole world.

I’ve written so many poems in my life. And every single one of them was just trying to find a better way to say what one soul said to another soul with one word. Isn’t it amazing that I came up so short? Isn’t it everything that I tried so hard and failed to write a single thing more beautiful than love.