Daydreamers, A Poem✔️

Chapter 19

After a week of dissecting baby pigs,

My teacher wants to look at the cardiovascular system,

And bought three hundred lamb hearts from a butcher.

McKenzie is home sick this week, so it's just me at our lab table.

The irony of the situation is not lost.

It's morbid.

I cut into the left ventricle,

And a line of blood cascades across my desk.

There was a time when we were growing up—

Before testosterone made Jorge a Greek God;

Before I became an unreliable narrator;

Before Lee became my love interest—that we were friends.

Then puberty happened,

Separating the girls from the boys,

And we became—well—

Casualties of age.

Jorge's always been easy.

Easy to talk to, easy to fuck,

And easy to be with;

As long as I was honest with him.

Lee's always been impossible.

Impossible to be with, impossible to be around,

And impossibly real;

As long as I was honest with her.

I sometimes daydream of a world:

Where he and I make sense.

Then again, I daydream of a world:

Where Lee and I make sense.

I sometimes daydream of another world:

As I clean up my bleeding heart,

I wonder if this world is—

Where we all make sense?