I.
You do not have to speak to your ****** again as long as
time lasts,
probably.

II.
You are
legitimately safe now.

III.
You have never felt so jumpy.

January

You make puns.
I make puns back.
We laugh.

February

I learn your name.
You walk me to class.

March

We keep making puns.
I tell you I don't go by the name I was introduced as.
You nod.

April

You punch me in the arm, harder than intended.
It's a funny thing to feel safe about.

May

You get my number.
We send each other jokes sometimes.
We talk about queer issues on occasion.

June

We beat each other up, laughing.
My ribs are bruised for a week and a half.
Our self-destructive tendencies seem to fall asleep for longer.

July

I am away.
I text you every day, and I don't remember when it started.
We agree that we are vaguely incompatible.

August

We begin school, and I see you every day.
I'm happier.
You look happier, too.

September

I ask your pronouns.
You touch me without hurting me for the first time.

October

Sometimes we fall asleep holding each other.
I'll never be in love with you.

November

Commitment has never felt like freedom before.

December*

You taste like some kind of holy water, a first sip of communion;
And I will still never be in love.

Stop when red lights flash.

Stop lights;
when red flash.

Stop lights.
Stop lights.
Warning lights.

You should have ******* listened.

My voice
Was the highest soprano in the choir
And I was well past puberty.
My chest may never be
As flat as yours,
My shoulders will always be
Slimmer and daintier,
My waist tucks in and allows for
Hips,
Hips that make me cringe with every ******* breath
Some days.

I will never have
That bulge between my legs
That you so wrongly call manhood.

I lack the things you tell me
Make someone a boy,
And sometimes I even lack the guts
To disagree with you;
But **** if that makes it alright to throw me in gutters,
Beat me up behind smokey dive bars,
Yell at me on the city bus,
Take away my ******* humanity.

Because I am a boy.
I am a ******* human.

YOU WERE A YEAR OF WHATEVER YOU WERE A YEAR OF
a year i could have stayed inside forever

YOU WERE THE FUEL TO MY FIRE YOU WERE THE WOOD THAT
only ever made me burn higher

YOU WERE THE GRIND ON THE DANCE FLOOR THE ONE NIGHT
in heaven the one night i didn't think about her not once i was alright

YOU WERE THE SHARED CLOTHES SO QUICKLY FORGOTTEN
on my floor, do you still want them back, i've stopped sleeping with them

YOU WERE THE DRESS PULLED TOO TIGHTLY THE SHIRT
pulled right off i let you see something no one else had with my permission

YOU WERE THE PILLS DOWNED AT MIDNIGHT THE LAST
glass of ***, shared & burning; turning into the rack where my fears are hung

YOU WERE MY EARLY FALL YOU WERE MY
you were my early fall.

I.
My hands are shaky with a scalpel.
Someday I may cut out my own ovaries at the cost of blood.

II.
You aren't meant to worry about me.
I'm one of the boys you look will at later, and say "What a tragedy."

III.
Don't worry now, I'm not a **** statistic yet.
Don't protect me, I'm not a court case yet.

IV.
I'm still fighting ain't I, right?
I'm not here for helping.

I.
There will be enough breath in you to shout,
and there will be enough people who love you to listen.

I.
You're more than you think you are.

II.
You're discarding me and it's alright.

III.
I must deserve it if you think it's right.

IV.
I will dig my nails into my own skin the way you did.

I.
The world dropped away and may have dropped out of existence,
but when the plane landed it was reality as hard and cold as it comes.

II.
Reality, as soft and warm as possible,
blue bottled sakè, gentle hands, the music as loud as a foghorn, the night air -
through the windows, cold as hell but brilliant.
City lights are brighter when you're laughing.

To be sure, it's unconventional;
Seems as though loving someone ought to have boundaries --
"Kissing means romance"
"Saying 'I love you' means commitment"
"Sleeping together means - "
But what does that ******* mean?
Nothing more, just sleeping.
So safe it felt like I could breathe.

To tell someone, "I slept the night,
better then I ever have,
my head on his chest and wrapped in the warmest arms."
They'll assure me it's a love affair.
How can I defend against -- that --
When I'm not even sure, really, if they're right.

I've been in love (or so I thought) before.
It felt different but who's to say that wasn't the abuse.
Thought loving someone, romantically and proper, meant hurting.
Yearning, confusing, burning, the occasional glorious moment
When they let you come close enough to touch
Fingertips.
Thought it was about putting up with pain because
they were worth it.

But the way I feel now isn't like
Hurting myself to make them happy or okay --
In fact, it's just the opposite.
I'm a better person, safer in my own skin, happier;
I want to live with you and sleep with you and hold your hands
But I never want to kiss you more than a peck upon the forehead.