You said I was confused.

Well, you said it about others

without knowing I related

to their struggle with self.

The conflict of queerness

Rivaled with religion.

Or rather, your beliefs of it

that you long ago instilled in me.

Though you never really said

any of this aloud until I was grown.

I still saw the way you looked at them.

The way I wished you'd never see me.

You've never really said

those three precious words

that a girl longs to hear

from her father.

I wish I was different.

I wish I could change.

But this is me and

it's a side you will never see.

I often wonder if at any time you actually

loved me but I guess I'll never truly know.

So the question, it seems,

will always remain: cannot or will not?