The Spark

A happy little Tink in London during Pride month.

Once upon a time, a very tiny Tink was told to dream of wedding bells rung by a white cis gendered male knight who gallantly rode in to save her from herself.

Teeny Tink had a few problems with this scenario. One, while the idea of a big party sounded cool, the whole "til death do you part" sounded a bit grim. Two, she was having a happy little life and didn't need saving. And three, what if the person she liked was something other than a cis gendered male?

The truth is, I've never been one to fit into boxes - despite being a petite human. ;)

And recently I realized that I liked HUMANS - regardless of how they chose to gender (or whether they do at all). 

​So in honor of PRIDE month, I'm sharing this cheeky little poem, in the hopes it sparks you to feel freer too. After all, love is love is love is love. 🖤

The Spark

It’s the spark 
That I feel
And it doesn’t matter
If it is a he, or a she, or
Someone who identities as neither or all
Or a one eyed purple people eater
Those mythological beings
Of a song in which I wonder
If the person who wrote it
Was saner than us all

Because we live in a time 
Where others are obsessed
With whether we love
A he, or a she, or
Someone who identifies as neither or all
And it seems to me
That those who are obsessed
Deserve to be eaten
By a one eyed purple people eater

To which I’ve always wondered 
Is the purple people eater, purple?
Or does it only eat purple people?
And does it miss it’s other eye?
Or like a cyclops, never had 
Another to begin with
But I digress

I was saying it was the spark
That starts it all
Like a tiny flicker of a flame
A buzz of energy
Between me
And a he, or a she, or
Someone who identifies as neither or all
That connects me to that human

Is it love?
Do we recognize it in an instant?
Or is it merely a flash of what 
Might be 
Could be
If we 
Allowed it

Still…
I’m bewildered at the thought
That there are those
Who will judge me
For being so open 
To a he, or a she 
Or someone who identifies as neither or all
As though it mattered to them what I did
And who I sparked with

So I wonder to myself
For those so vocal in their 
Disgust or displeasure 
In my choices in life
Have you never felt a spark of your own?
And that thought
So dismal
Just makes me sad

And so I would advise 
That those who judge
So loudly and vehemently 
To whether I love 
A he, or a she, or
Someone who identifies as neither or all
That the one eyed purple people eater
Avoid eating those people
Because I would imagine
That such grim folks
Would make for a rather
Indigestible meal

And instead
You can nibble on me
I’m kinda sweet
Or so I’ve been told
By a he, and a she,
And those who identify as neither or all
Whenever we’ve sparked

---

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