Everybody knows that smiling is for little girls, the gays and certain kinds of fish who are smiling by accident.

Love makes no mistakes.

...all these kids you can't seem to make sense of would stop holding you so far off the edge of your seats if you'd start holding yourselves to the promises you make. We know you're not perfect, because we're not. And I know I'm not perfect, but I believe I was meant to be.

Hearts don't break, y'all. They bruise and get better.

If you've never been rocked back by the presence of purpose this poem is too soon for you. Return to your mediocrity, plug it into an amplifier and rethink yourself.

But I still show up for gentleman practice in the company of lead dancers, hoping their grace will get stuck in my shoes.

The future gets no say in who we are.