When I told my phsysical therapist that I'm a lesbian,
her answer was a question I did not ever expect;
"So... Are you a lesbian because you are disabled and you cannot get a boyfriend?"
I was speechless,
looking at the wall,
stunned. *******,
she did not just stereotype every single disabled homosexual to have ever existed.
I stammered no,
and I tried to explain that I have had boyfriends before,
it just wasn't my thing.
Looking back now I realise that,
I should not have explained anything because I don't ever need to explain anything about the people I love.
I have had a thing for girls,
since I was three,
and when I was three years old I did not notice my disability,
the way it's being noticed today.
And the absolute most heartbreaking thing about both my sexuality and my disability is,
that I still do not notice it as much as everybody else seems to do.
I can be the best girlfriend ever,
no matter what my sexuality is,
no matter how my body looks.
And don't get me wrong;
I like guys too. I think guys are wonderful.
If God had created Eve and Ava,
who would have brought me into this World?
I can get a boyfriend if I want one,
maybe someday I find the most amazing guy ever,
and I will not let my sexuality stand in my way.
But for now,
I am a disabled homosexual,
who decided to tell you about it.
And dear physical therapist:
I have never judged you,
not even when you told me you fell for a fat guy,
and now you're married.
So don't ask me if I'm only a lesbian,
due to the fact that I have a disability,
because guess what?
I'll have my disability no matter if,
the person I'm dating,
has a ***** or a ******.

(e.k.j.)

I miss the little girl you used to be,
you're now just a shell of who I used to see.

Your eyes used to twinkle as you found something funny,
but now they are dead and you barely smile, honey.

You used to dream the impossible and had hope in your heart,
but I've seen the way the world broke you - now destruction is your art.

You couldn't be protected from the evil presence,
so you escape reality with the drugs that give you pleasance.

You used to cry when you grazed your knees on the floor,
but now you don't even flinch when you cut your wrists to the core.

You used to ask why people would want to die,
but now you understand all too well as you lay in bed and cry.

You used to pretend tic tacs were medicine as you popped them on your tongue,
but now you sit with hundreds of pills in your hand wondering whether life is worth it; you're only young.

You used to be full of life and enjoyed most of your days,
but now you're dead behind your mask and you're always in a daze.

He may have won the last eleven battles as you tried to end your life,
but I am telling you that you will win this war this time and above him you shall rise.

I miss the little girl you used to be,
you're now just a shell of who I used to see.

8:25pm
I fear when people ask me how i feel
I could sit you down for hours, days
And explain how I've felt everything
All at once
Could explain how there's times I cry to much or myself to sleep
Could explain how i smile and sometimes it's real and sometimes it is not
Could explain that fear eats me whole and that i am constantly paranoid
That my future scares me
Could explain when there are times i do not feel loved or when i feel alone
I feel to much lately these feelings are becoming numb
And i do not have anyone to ask me how i feel, so I'll continue to keep this bottled and until then I'll explain it to myself.

Phone ringing with the cord cut
     That's the way we like to f*ck
  When we know they know
                    And the walls are just play dough
               And the heat we make turns this shelter to clay
            It makes it so intense we forget what to say
     But it's okay they'd listen anyway
         I'm trying to take the time to see just what makes you tick
         And I was never looking for smoke and mirrors or obvious tricks
            Just your essence and your presence made me question what I know
     What they know
     Walls made of playdough

Dusk turns to night with the lights off
        So silent
    You could hear a pin drop
        Deep breaths slowly fill the air
Rattling these walls made of playdough
            So in sync we don't even care
    That they know we know
Taking the time to take it slow
        In your eyes I see that raging fire
    Of these feelings I will never tire
And your skin embedded in my memories
         Makes me realize what I've always known
    Just your touch and your existence erase the tragedies
          What do they know
  Through these walls made of playdough

Ten years ago it seemed impossible
  That she should ever grow so calm as this,
  With self-remembrance in her warmest kiss
And dim dried eyes like an exhausted well.
Slow-speaking when she has some fact to tell,
  Silent with long-unbroken silences,
  Centred in self yet not unpleased to please,
Gravely monotonous like a passing bell.
Mindful of drudging daily common things,
  Patient at pastime, patient at her work,
Wearied perhaps but strenuous certainly.
Sometimes I fancy we may one day see
  Her head shoot forth seven stars from where they lurk
And her eyes lightnings and her shoulders wings.