One day, the door will be slammed one too many times and fall off its hinges.

I can almost imagine how red you get
At some of the things I've said.
The way you fumble for words and
Get flustered, it's adorable, my favorite.

It's the tiny explosions of tingles
That erupt in my spine, legs, and chest
The words you say-- I can't respond--
They're cloying, saccharine, my favorite.

We'd both argue we're better, more apt than.
(You win, this time, whatever, I guess)
Got to have this competition, got to have the race
It's revitalizing, livening, my favorite.

I'd ignore a comedy to hear your laugh
It's contagious, it always brings me with.
I'm a buffoon for a single chuckle
It's addictive, amazing, my favorite.

And it could be silence that wraps around me
And it could be that razor sharp, sassy wit.
It could be questions and answers and information
But it's you foremost, so lovely, my favorite.

Have you ever stumbled upon someone life-shatteringly special?
You lose your breath and can't think straight.
But somehow they've stuck around.
Feeling like a stunned vegetable to your innocent charisma.

Like divine intervention we met in the most unlikely of ways.
We hit it off and spent hours together, confined and stressed.
How did we get along so well?
How did we manage to learn more together than alone?
How did we manage to find each other in this big world?
I'll always wonder if there is more to this story.
Answers to my plaguing questions that rule my emotional state.

I don't know how to describe what it is I feel in a rational way.
It doesn't serve rationale.
Writing it all down or saying it only compounds how crazy I must sound.
But I'm not a loony bin. On the contrary, you are just infinitely more special than you realise!

But I'll not skip a note nor bump a chord.
Because I see you so finely in all your elegance.
A beauty which radiates in an innocent manifestation.
I can't tell if everyone else can see it also.
They must?!
I must have no chance here.
I know I should cut my losses and move on.
Right..?
Hope to find this feeling once more.
But something from beyond the blackened ether of midnight skies and space dust tells me to keep trying.

Am I drowning? The void of my soul fills
with water as I dive deeper in order
to escape this calm catastrophe
called "living".

Where do I go next? The city lights I
see through the murky haze, hallucinating
in my final breaths. Seeing the stars of
Atlantis, the long lost beauty.
Seeing the scars of myself, the long lost
calamity.

Was I ever beautiful, or did I
become so skilled in the art of pretending,
my art of hiding, that even the best
critics couldn't find me behind these canvas
walls?

Mermaids bearing blades pierce my canvas heart,
its surface painted by countless sorrows.
Blood swirling around me, closing my eyes
as I die in a painting - the girl who
sank her own city.

Gender is such a fun game, Isn't it?

I remember as a kid I would play Wizard101 and in the beginning before creating a new

Character, you must establish if you were a

Boy.. Or a Girl.

I had one female wizard, and one boy wizard and in my mind, that was okay until

I showed my heavily religious grandparent the game.

She asked me why there was one boy character, and one girl character.

I told her it was my friends and she smiled, as if she were relieved.

The next sentence that spilled from her old ancient lips made me almost cry.

She smoothed her khakis and said

I was afraid you would say that they were both you, because you should only have a girl character.

And no, Oma, it was not my friend's character because in my mind, I wanted to be that boy character.

In my mind, I  wanted to be that female character as well.

When I was Thirteen, I got a plaid shirt for Christmas. I put it on and my friends said

It made me look like a lesbian.

And only one of my friends said it looked good on me.

At that time, I was declaring myself "bisexual" finding both girls and guys

to be very attractive.

My favourite viner was a neutrois and I thought this was normal.

In fact, I wanted to cut my hair short  and wear guy-ish clothes for a longtime.

So many people have told me that I must identify as "boy" or "male"

Or ****, even "girl" and "female"

Well guess what.

I'm worth more than a ******* "Other" button.

So are other people.

People, humans.

That's what we are, isn't it?

1.
My head itches with lice
that **** on my XY blood
and with each pierce of the scalp
anchor down the long strands of hair
that cascade down my back and fall
in my face and betray my boy-like
interior.

2.
I watch you and how you know who you are,
as you talk of hormone therapy and chest binders
or bras and wigs and make-up and dresses, and I
begin to cry because you know who you are,
even if the rest of the world does not.

3.
I want to cut my hair,
but I'm afraid my face is just too ugly
to have locks that fall to my ears,
that even short hair won't solve my problems,
won't have the cashier at the drug store call me
"sir".

4.
I'm scared of surgeries,
surgeries that would leave faint scars
beneath my *******, and allow me to walk
down a beach in trunk and a bare toned chest.
I have my binder but I will never be completely flat.

5.
I think the reason I am so scared
of cutting away the girl in me
is because I do not know
if there is really a boy inside.