apomegranatesmemoir13 - Hello Poetry

Fingernails clack on Piano keys, yellow teeth Sour milk on marble...

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Mar 22, 2019

Mar 22, 2019 at 6:34 PM UTC

Fingernails clack on Piano keys, yellow teeth Sour milk on marble...

Dysphoria, what does it feel like? They sigh, trying to find a single sentence for years of caged silence. Identity: Female Stuck in the wrong way To me it’s a sense of nothing will ever be right The feeling of being in extreme danger Like you’re about to die Identity: Male All I can say is This isn’t me The feeling is a long and windy explanation of Disassociation There are things about me that I don’t associate with myself And it’s weird and confusing When I become aware of them Identity: **** A drag queen? Trans fluid. Dysphoria... It's a lot like, Anger, Betrayal, An itch Like a really itchy sweater, You can’t take it off And the longer you have to wear it the worse it gets You start to hate yourself because You’re the one that put the sweater on in the first place They say we are ill Broken ****** *** “Butch” It’s not correct When they say it’s their right to say those That’s when I get mad If there is no way to make the mind conform to the body You must make the body conform to the mind If they think it’s their right to tell other people that their identity is wrong, Then they are ill and broken They have no f**king clue And I know, I can’t tell them they’re wrong Without telling them why But I realize Explaining this is futile With closed minded people Bathrooms need to change, Health care needs to change, Identification needs to change People are forced to “pick one” Trans-phobia shouldn’t be tolerated Mental health care shouldn’t be because it’s a “defect” Social pressure, Internalized oppression, Abuse, Shouldn’t Be Tolerated Politicians have got it the wrong way around One in two transgender persons have experienced ****** assault One. In. Two. They say, “We don’t want men undercover spying on our women and children” You think they are in there to spy or **** Name more than two cases in the last 25 years Where a transgender person has sexually abused a woman in the ladies bathroom You can’t But give me five minutes, and I can come up with five to eight names of transgender people That have been assaulted in bathrooms since 2019 started But our Pride cannot be destroyed It’s our strength A feeling of belonging A belief that we can change this We are not alone. We Are Not Alone. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

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Mar 7, 2019

Mar 7, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC

Listen To Their Voice

Dysphoria, what does it feel like? They sigh, trying to find a single sentence for years of caged silence. Identity: Female Stuck in the wrong way To me it’s a sense of nothing will ever be right The feeling of being in extreme danger Like you’re about to die Identity: Male All I can say is This isn’t me The feeling is a long and windy explanation of Disassociation There are things about me that I don’t associate with myself And it’s weird and confusing When I become aware of them Identity: **** A drag queen? Trans fluid. Dysphoria... It's a lot like, Anger, Betrayal, An itch Like a really itchy sweater, You can’t take it off And the longer you have to wear it the worse it gets You start to hate yourself because You’re the one that put the sweater on in the first place They say we are ill Broken ****** *** “Butch” It’s not correct When they say it’s their right to say those That’s when I get mad If there is no way to make the mind conform to the body You must make the body conform to the mind If they think it’s their right to tell other people that their identity is wrong, Then they are ill and broken They have no f**king clue And I know, I can’t tell them they’re wrong Without telling them why But I realize Explaining this is futile With closed minded people Bathrooms need to change, Health care needs to change, Identification needs to change People are forced to “pick one” Trans-phobia shouldn’t be tolerated Mental health care shouldn’t be because it’s a “defect” Social pressure, Internalized oppression, Abuse, Shouldn’t Be Tolerated Politicians have got it the wrong way around One in two transgender persons have experienced ****** assault One. In. Two. They say, “We don’t want men undercover spying on our women and children” You think they are in there to spy or **** Name more than two cases in the last 25 years Where a transgender person has sexually abused a woman in the ladies bathroom You can’t But give me five minutes, and I can come up with five to eight names of transgender people That have been assaulted in bathrooms since 2019 started But our Pride cannot be destroyed It’s our strength A feeling of belonging A belief that we can change this We are not alone. We Are Not Alone. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

70

He was pale as death, running down like an over-wound clock Beneath his eyes, dark signs of sleeplessness tumbled short of his dreams. The pale gold odor of his lips, Parted with a series of beginnings. He was confounded with wonder at her presence That voice held him most Swathed in rose and lavender silk The darker, well-kept expanse of his suppressed eagerness blazed with light. His eyes, a deep tropical burn, on fire like the World’s Fair remotely possessed by intense life like a trembling match stained with creative passion He searched for her night and day The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic rain a deathless song a faint flow of thunder he followed the sound of it into the thick folds of the sky. her well-loved eyes, smeared with tears, glistening drops smashed into pieces on the floor Standing in a puddle of mid-summer flowers Bright ecstatic smile on the edge of pouring rain Its fluctuating, feverish warmth, full of aching grieving beauty, told of unexpected joy Are you in love with me?

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Nov 28, 2018

Nov 28, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC

Smoking Rain

He was pale as death, running down like an over-wound clock Beneath his eyes, dark signs of sleeplessness tumbled short of his dreams. The pale gold odor of his lips, Parted with a series of beginnings. He was confounded with wonder at her presence That voice held him most Swathed in rose and lavender silk The darker, well-kept expanse of his suppressed eagerness blazed with light. His eyes, a deep tropical burn, on fire like the World’s Fair remotely possessed by intense life like a trembling match stained with creative passion He searched for her night and day The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic rain a deathless song a faint flow of thunder he followed the sound of it into the thick folds of the sky. her well-loved eyes, smeared with tears, glistening drops smashed into pieces on the floor Standing in a puddle of mid-summer flowers Bright ecstatic smile on the edge of pouring rain Its fluctuating, feverish warmth, full of aching grieving beauty, told of unexpected joy Are you in love with me?

30

You used to tell me that beautiful things come from pain and adversity. Like motherhood, unconditional love, and true stories. As I stood in the middle of a room painted white, Staring at the remains of rolling hills burned to black, I saw you staring back at me. Burnt fields like black panther fur Shining against your bones Velvet black You’ve changed And changed and changed Yet your love still remains Burnt fields like black panther fur Whiskers are the needles on a compass Always pointing to the azure sky You used to sing when I cried Rolling your r’s over rrolling hills A haunting melody startling black birds into the night Feathered constellations against a sliver moon And lips pressed to my salty cheeks You told me that your favorite skin tone was chocolate, As you laid out in the sun hoping to melt. “A quarter black” is what you say when you want to feel proud, Even as you tell me stories of how your mother was called negrita, The girl who stood too dark amongst the crowd. Burnt fields like black panther fur Black like the broken wings of mothers before you Who had hands with scars from cotton seeds And blue veins like uprooted trees Stretching all the way to their tired knees Burnt fields like black panther fur You criticize your aging beauty Speaking in envy of the color gold Like you are a broken bowl in need of kintsugi Yet silver snakes still slither Over the pebbled river beds of your black curls Dripping down the small of your back Until they reach the base of your ivory spine Burnt fields like black panther fur You criticize your aging beauty Because you never thought Cocoa lips and sun spots painted on sculpted clay that never cracks Could ever look as stunning as it does on you You told me that it is better to speak my truth then tell pretty lies. So I told you mine and you cried, And cried and cried. But look where we are now, Standing beside each other with the same eyes, Just different reflections. Burnt fields like black panther fur Tongue like a sword set ablaze Tempered in pools of milk and honey Blood red sun grazing the tops of your eyelids Still reminiscent of those in old photographs Where you saw the little girl you search for in me Burnt fields like black panther fur I am sorry I made you cry But even when our backs are turned We are still Black birds singing in the dead of night Free Thank you mama for my broken wings.

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Nov 15, 2018

Nov 15, 2018 at 3:11 PM UTC

Burnt Fields Like Black Panther Fur

You used to tell me that beautiful things come from pain and adversity. Like motherhood, unconditional love, and true stories. As I stood in the middle of a room painted white, Staring at the remains of rolling hills burned to black, I saw you staring back at me. Burnt fields like black panther fur Shining against your bones Velvet black You’ve changed And changed and changed Yet your love still remains Burnt fields like black panther fur Whiskers are the needles on a compass Always pointing to the azure sky You used to sing when I cried Rolling your r’s over rrolling hills A haunting melody startling black birds into the night Feathered constellations against a sliver moon And lips pressed to my salty cheeks You told me that your favorite skin tone was chocolate, As you laid out in the sun hoping to melt. “A quarter black” is what you say when you want to feel proud, Even as you tell me stories of how your mother was called negrita, The girl who stood too dark amongst the crowd. Burnt fields like black panther fur Black like the broken wings of mothers before you Who had hands with scars from cotton seeds And blue veins like uprooted trees Stretching all the way to their tired knees Burnt fields like black panther fur You criticize your aging beauty Speaking in envy of the color gold Like you are a broken bowl in need of kintsugi Yet silver snakes still slither Over the pebbled river beds of your black curls Dripping down the small of your back Until they reach the base of your ivory spine Burnt fields like black panther fur You criticize your aging beauty Because you never thought Cocoa lips and sun spots painted on sculpted clay that never cracks Could ever look as stunning as it does on you You told me that it is better to speak my truth then tell pretty lies. So I told you mine and you cried, And cried and cried. But look where we are now, Standing beside each other with the same eyes, Just different reflections. Burnt fields like black panther fur Tongue like a sword set ablaze Tempered in pools of milk and honey Blood red sun grazing the tops of your eyelids Still reminiscent of those in old photographs Where you saw the little girl you search for in me Burnt fields like black panther fur I am sorry I made you cry But even when our backs are turned We are still Black birds singing in the dead of night Free Thank you mama for my broken wings.

60

Soft melodies of the deep sea echo Moonlight dances on my pretty scales And icy bubbles whirl under my chest Through my slippery hair And down into my lungs to clear the way for overflowing foam Laughter splashes behind my lips as my anticipation rises Waiting for a night of twisted fairy-tales and uncalled for surprises. Shimmering bodies swarm in spirals Grinding in unison with the waves crashing at the surface We're anxious for overflowing foam and hidden treasures Purple light pierces the dark like shards of crystals Casting a ghostly shade on bulbous faces Pressure rises as each wave surges Whirlpools of hot breath suffocate our gills But the sidelines are shallow And stragglers float motionless Hair like seaweed at the nape of his neck Unbuttoned linen soaked and dripping Her hollow eyes glow green Like the jelly orbs of a fish under florescent lights She’s pressed against a boy who has hooks for fins Searching for the parts that are edible Tender, Scale-less, Slippery Nothing wrong with being the catch of the day Right? Bubbles rise and pop as the last melodies drown Schools of us are begging for shiny hooks and bad decisions A handsome boy has been smiling all the while He’s caught in a fisherman’s net Craving salty lips and the spell to make him a man But fisherman don't care for little mermaids With hearts like sea glass and no hidden treasures to steal Sweaty fins splash and cheer The fishbowl shatters Sea glass spills out onto sand We squirm and flop onto land Gasping without air to breathe As our mouths and ***** thoughts dry in the sun Leaving behind fresh meat without mouths to feed. Rainbow confetti was stuck in the grooves of my scales Wet clothes left on the floor of a steamy bathroom Gasping and moaning into tile With the face of a handsome stranger Because this meat shouldn't go to waste And I'm drunken with desperation For overflowing foam, jewels, and shiny hooks But I'm just another fish in the sea Tumbling in the waves with my rainbow confetti scales.

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Oct 15, 2018

Oct 15, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC

Confetti Scales

Soft melodies of the deep sea echo Moonlight dances on my pretty scales And icy bubbles whirl under my chest Through my slippery hair And down into my lungs to clear the way for overflowing foam Laughter splashes behind my lips as my anticipation rises Waiting for a night of twisted fairy-tales and uncalled for surprises. Shimmering bodies swarm in spirals Grinding in unison with the waves crashing at the surface We're anxious for overflowing foam and hidden treasures Purple light pierces the dark like shards of crystals Casting a ghostly shade on bulbous faces Pressure rises as each wave surges Whirlpools of hot breath suffocate our gills But the sidelines are shallow And stragglers float motionless Hair like seaweed at the nape of his neck Unbuttoned linen soaked and dripping Her hollow eyes glow green Like the jelly orbs of a fish under florescent lights She’s pressed against a boy who has hooks for fins Searching for the parts that are edible Tender, Scale-less, Slippery Nothing wrong with being the catch of the day Right? Bubbles rise and pop as the last melodies drown Schools of us are begging for shiny hooks and bad decisions A handsome boy has been smiling all the while He’s caught in a fisherman’s net Craving salty lips and the spell to make him a man But fisherman don't care for little mermaids With hearts like sea glass and no hidden treasures to steal Sweaty fins splash and cheer The fishbowl shatters Sea glass spills out onto sand We squirm and flop onto land Gasping without air to breathe As our mouths and ***** thoughts dry in the sun Leaving behind fresh meat without mouths to feed. Rainbow confetti was stuck in the grooves of my scales Wet clothes left on the floor of a steamy bathroom Gasping and moaning into tile With the face of a handsome stranger Because this meat shouldn't go to waste And I'm drunken with desperation For overflowing foam, jewels, and shiny hooks But I'm just another fish in the sea Tumbling in the waves with my rainbow confetti scales.

48

Here I stood with ***** crystals beneath my feet and waited for the sky to turn golden. Here I laughed into the echoing tunnel under my home as wet earth dripped on my skin. Here I learned about parenthood among feathers and little eggs and ungodly morning crows. Here I gloated about the manhood which sprouted from under my arms and in my mischievous thoughts. Here I waited till dark to meet him in secret all the while dreading the sound of tires on gravel. Here I buzzed with excitement as the boys had their lazy Sunday afternoon. Here his freckles came close to mine as he softly said "you're so beautiful" with Bruno Mars playing in the background. Here I said I would never grow up. Here I comforted her with my pain because I had to be brave. Here I forgot that being called "muddy children who act like savages " was considered an insult. Here I cried into the stars for reasons I didn't understand. Here I walked on hands and feet with happy little scratches and silent giggles. Here only the sound of our beating hearts and delicate pride could be heard as I held him close. Here I sang at the top of my favorite tree and waited for the words to hurt him as much as he hurt me. Here the glow of a flashlight illuminated our tent as I asked her if she liked me like that. Here a little piece of me was left sitting on a branch waiting to capture the next magical heart. Here I wrote "I love you" on a mango leaf only to realize that he spelled love differently. Here I sat beneath bright green trees and pondered my not-so-complicated life. Here my words came out blurry and my stomach swayed like a sail boat out on a windy morning. Here my hands went numb as I raced to the end of his life. Here I visit through pictures and messy journals to remember the little things that are now so so big. Here I left muddy footprints now covered with grass, but here they will stay.

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Sep 16, 2018

Sep 16, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC

Muddy Footprints

Here I stood with ***** crystals beneath my feet and waited for the sky to turn golden. Here I laughed into the echoing tunnel under my home as wet earth dripped on my skin. Here I learned about parenthood among feathers and little eggs and ungodly morning crows. Here I gloated about the manhood which sprouted from under my arms and in my mischievous thoughts. Here I waited till dark to meet him in secret all the while dreading the sound of tires on gravel. Here I buzzed with excitement as the boys had their lazy Sunday afternoon. Here his freckles came close to mine as he softly said "you're so beautiful" with Bruno Mars playing in the background. Here I said I would never grow up. Here I comforted her with my pain because I had to be brave. Here I forgot that being called "muddy children who act like savages " was considered an insult. Here I cried into the stars for reasons I didn't understand. Here I walked on hands and feet with happy little scratches and silent giggles. Here only the sound of our beating hearts and delicate pride could be heard as I held him close. Here I sang at the top of my favorite tree and waited for the words to hurt him as much as he hurt me. Here the glow of a flashlight illuminated our tent as I asked her if she liked me like that. Here a little piece of me was left sitting on a branch waiting to capture the next magical heart. Here I wrote "I love you" on a mango leaf only to realize that he spelled love differently. Here I sat beneath bright green trees and pondered my not-so-complicated life. Here my words came out blurry and my stomach swayed like a sail boat out on a windy morning. Here my hands went numb as I raced to the end of his life. Here I visit through pictures and messy journals to remember the little things that are now so so big. Here I left muddy footprints now covered with grass, but here they will stay.

22

Red. The color of sunlight through eyelids, Morning clouds before a storm, Frosted rosebuds and Eve's fruits forbid. Red. The color of cheeks flushed, Falling hearts like autumn leaves, Wax seal of love notes all covered in dust. Red. The color of cherry juice on pale lips, Soft tongues burnt by bitter coffee, Blurry traffic lights and cold finger tips. Red. The color of beating skin, Tender hearts rubbed raw, Silk on curves and a moaning violin. Red. The color of freshly stained sheets, Blood red sun dripping down her skin, The holy place where her thighs meet. Red. The color of dim firelight as eyelids close, Limbs of lovers intertwine in gold, And now the color of my words, I suppose. Red. My favorite color.

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Sep 2, 2018

Sep 2, 2018 at 6:37 PM UTC

the color Red

Red. The color of sunlight through eyelids, Morning clouds before a storm, Frosted rosebuds and Eve's fruits forbid. Red. The color of cheeks flushed, Falling hearts like autumn leaves, Wax seal of love notes all covered in dust. Red. The color of cherry juice on pale lips, Soft tongues burnt by bitter coffee, Blurry traffic lights and cold finger tips. Red. The color of beating skin, Tender hearts rubbed raw, Silk on curves and a moaning violin. Red. The color of freshly stained sheets, Blood red sun dripping down her skin, The holy place where her thighs meet. Red. The color of dim firelight as eyelids close, Limbs of lovers intertwine in gold, And now the color of my words, I suppose. Red. My favorite color.

26

You call me She, Her, Daughter, Girl Shhhhh... You speak with a blind mouth, Look at me, see me She isn't me, Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale. I am not broken, I am free But you hide behind a veil Afraid to finally let go of... Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress You question each time I show you my truth, "Are you trying to hide your femininity?" No, my femininity is simply not my definition. Spend a day in my skin, in my cage, And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers, Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase. Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense? You speak to me but your voice seems distant, Bouncing off of me and echoing Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see. "I am right in front of you, you know" But my words are only heard when they come from her lips. Do you see me now? Mother, Children, Wife, Woman A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not, Stomach swollen, hair to my waist The glow of an expecting mother on my face. Curves, not edges, Pink, not blue. Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place. Do you see me now? Pants swollen, hair to my brow, Along my jaw, Down my legs, Sprouting from my toes. Do you see me now? Bulged, Buzzed, Boy Blood on my sheets, not between my legs Stained by the girl who lies in her place Fresh coat of gel and cologne, Swirls of shaving cream. Bare chest, Burning skin Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short, Nervous fidgets with a tie, tick tock, "Pick me up at eight" "Treat her right" "I will sir" "Will you be my..." "You're going to be a father!" "You are the best daughter we could have asked for" ...."Son" I whispered. But you didn't hear, Please tell me Do you see me now?

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Jul 23, 2018

Jul 23, 2018 at 3:01 AM UTC

His Silent Cry

You call me She, Her, Daughter, Girl Shhhhh... You speak with a blind mouth, Look at me, see me She isn't me, Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale. I am not broken, I am free But you hide behind a veil Afraid to finally let go of... Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress You question each time I show you my truth, "Are you trying to hide your femininity?" No, my femininity is simply not my definition. Spend a day in my skin, in my cage, And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers, Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase. Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense? You speak to me but your voice seems distant, Bouncing off of me and echoing Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see. "I am right in front of you, you know" But my words are only heard when they come from her lips. Do you see me now? Mother, Children, Wife, Woman A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not, Stomach swollen, hair to my waist The glow of an expecting mother on my face. Curves, not edges, Pink, not blue. Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place. Do you see me now? Pants swollen, hair to my brow, Along my jaw, Down my legs, Sprouting from my toes. Do you see me now? Bulged, Buzzed, Boy Blood on my sheets, not between my legs Stained by the girl who lies in her place Fresh coat of gel and cologne, Swirls of shaving cream. Bare chest, Burning skin Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short, Nervous fidgets with a tie, tick tock, "Pick me up at eight" "Treat her right" "I will sir" "Will you be my..." "You're going to be a father!" "You are the best daughter we could have asked for" ...."Son" I whispered. But you didn't hear, Please tell me Do you see me now?

55