Two songs echo through my chest.

“What’s wrong with that?” you may object.

But pay some respect to your favorite musician:

You neglect their slick precision,

I expect a quick rescission,

Music doesn’t harmonize by its own inhibition.


So imagine my condition

With these clashing compositions

Competing with their own renditions

Of who I am in spirit.

At first, only one played for me to hear it.

The other lay low in silent fear of

What siren may appear if

I were to ever let myself be queer.


My revelations let the dissonant duet grow clear.


Which brings us back to here, and now

Where I peer at the counter

Awaiting this fated encounter

Inflated by the countering score

Who tells me move no more.

But the other compels me to open the door

And take L’Oréal out of the drawer.


Two songs discord behind my heart,

But what if I ignored the part

Who warns me not to try this out?

So I try it on

–blush in particular.

It tickles my ventricular tissue

And soothes my sonic issue

If just for a clock’s tick.

So I next try lipstick

And eyeliner, eyeshadow,

I’m out of air;

I don’t care

For this one moment

Which of the songs is there.

It’s euphoric, but it’s not euphorever.


Like a bird may pluck out its feathers

From its shifting emotional weather,

So do I wipe my face

To erase this new look for disgrace.

The mirror consoles me

But it holds me in empty space:

I’m naked in either case.


It’s both or neither: I can’t verge in between,

But the road’s a cipher to merge the boy and queen.

For now as for then, for me and for them, I’ll cage my soul with age-old lies.

Why can’t the songs just harmonize?