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Inexperience

What do I know about love?
Honestly.
I’m too young to understand
its complexities, riddles, and coldness.
What can I perceive of its ways?
I read books.
Anyone I know is a sucker
for a good story.
What do I know about jealousy?
I’ve never been consumed by it.
That emotion, that word: that’s foreign to me.
What do I know about heartbreak?
Oh, nothing.
Just this, that, and the other thing.
Don’t you see?
I’m a virgin beyond compare.
I’m whole.
I’m pure.
I’m complete.
I’m faceless, as of yet.
I have a lot of questions.
Curiosity didn’t kill the cat;
it only paralyzed him for...
for a few seconds, at most.
Maybe less. Still:
there is one thing I’m dying to know.
If Shakespeare is gay,
and homosexuals are going to hell,
why do I wallow in the taste of his poetry?

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