we used to be friends
best of friends actually
but when you let insecurities get you
you became a poser and broke my trust

---

from
the
blackness
white
steam
rises...

much
like
our
insp­iration


10W
soulsurvivor
(C) 9/30/2015

I do not like...
                                     not knowing.

Not knowing,
if our lives have meaning.
If our words are just spoken or heard.

If the wish I made on that star,
when I was seven,
ever came true.

Or if moms kisses
really made those scrapes and bruises
heal faster.

Did the tooth fairy
really trade common currency
for my baby teeth?
                                              Or
The bunny hide things
just for me to find...

I wish I knew,
But there are NEVER enough stars...
For the questions,
I wished to know.

did i just stumble on a bunch of coincidences
or is something more at play

is it dark or is it light
i'm so lost here in the odd digital world

the moon kept calling me
but i kept answering you

my heart beating faster
becoming more scared by every minute

these black words come streaming out
through my eyes and into my heart

what is it doing to my soul?

His  h a n d s  were so beautiful
Rough, like a first-time bikecrash
Manly, bruised, ragged cuticles
Curiously wandering trough
this undressed  f o r e s t
Exploring every part with soft touch
Tryna reach for the appletree
Craving for that fresh taste
When he's giving me  h e a d
on the unmade bed

Slowly   s i n k i n g
further and further into his love
It  h e a t s  me up
My bones become gelatin
His breath becomes my  o x y g e n
Our heartbeat becomes a melody
His maddening eyes watching me ***
Goosebumps appear all over my skin
This feeling is so confusing and ineffable
Yet so   e u p h o r i c   and intense
it can't be explained
We're two lights burning on one candle
Together, we melt
into this burning desire
for  e a c h   o t h e r.

You don’t need a gun
to be shot.
I know this
       because the morning after
you left, I found a bullet hole in my chest,
that sadness from that Sunday overflowed to
    massive amounts of
pain in Monday’s mayhem.
The next thing I knew,
I had blood trickling from the
stab wounds in my back.
My weakness on Wednesday echoed the
      innocence of my thoughts;
you don’t need a knife to be
   stabbed.
The flashbacks on Friday were bearable
until my skin started to peal from the burn
during the sunset on Saturday night.
The warmth reminded me of the butterflies that used to flood my stomach when you smiled.
But they’re gone now
just like the warmth of your touch on my skin that’s
now just a bare surface.
I guess you don’t need fire to burn either.
The bullet hole will close, the stab
wounds will heal, the skin
will grow back.
The morning after
I saw you with her
I learned the biggest lesson of my life;
You don’t need water to
                                             drown.

Being transgender is like this:
Everyday of your life, you have always wanted a dog.
For as long as you can remember--
even if you don't know to what extent--
you have wanted one.

You asked your parents, Santa, the easter bunny,
even the tooth fairy.
Then one day you get a dead cat for your birthday.
You say "This isn't a dog,"
But "You get what you get and don't get upset"
So you carry around and care for the dead carcass.

All sorts of people look at you,
unable to understand what you are doing.
So then one day you decide to try to make it look a bit nicer.
You wash it a bit, comb what little fur it has left,
cover the decrepit limbs.

But then you realize the futility in doing this all the time,
because you are still carrying around a dead animal.
So you continue to carry it around because you have to,
no matter how horrible it may be.

Although you are carrying around a dead and rotting cat,
you aren't a ******* cat owner;

You still want a ******* dog.