Every time I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes it was justified by the fact that she never paid attention.
Every time that I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes she would pray for me not understand me.
Every time I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes she would say that my cussing was ungodly.
Every time I would call out her selfishness she would forgive my rage.
Every time I would notice her avoiding people I would follow her to see if she was okay, of course she would never tell me how she really felt.
Anger is not my problem it's how she treated me that made me sense the distance between us.

That one wedding long ago, she was in a night blue dress.
I was in trance looking across the dance floor to this beautiful creature.
She glanced from her friends to me then she smiled at me.
The more we gazed at each other, I felt electricity.
With every twist and turn I was trying to impress her with my dance moves.
And I did impress her with my dance moves then she disappeared.

The World is Divided between Republicans and Democrats.
The World is so Divided between two halves of itself it is blind.
The World is Divided between red and blue that it forgets the color purple.
The World is Divided between moral and liberalism that it forgets that both is an option.
The World is Divided between truth and lies that we forget what the truth is.

I felt someone kissed my head when I was at Olive Garden with my siblings. It ran a chill down my spine.
I felt someone kissed the back of my neck when I was in the SGA office working on my poetry. My pulse raced against the touch.
All of this was 2 years ago. I know somehow they are the same person. I just don't know who they are. You can come out of hiding. I am not scared of you. I just want to know: why me?

Being classified as the The Mom Friend in America is like being complimented and praised at the same time.
Being The Mom Friend is worrying about your friends like they are children and acting as though anything will **** them like starvation, exhaustion, heat stroke, hypothermia, and frostbite to name several.
Being The Mom Friend you do research on anything personally and talk about facts to them as if it's gossip which it isn't.
Being The Mom Friend means feeding your friends, reminding them on road trips about anything important, caring about their hygiene, overpacking for school trips so nothing goes wrong and being the alpha female by loving them unconditionally.
I generally think most women don't know what an alpha female is in a wolf pack because scientifically alpha wolves care for the pack and never backs down from a fight unless killed off in a territorial war with another alpha wolf. People would have to do research on red and gray wolves to know that.

Gender dysphoria,
I feel a stabbing pain in my chest.
Gender dysphoria,
I feel the pain spread across my body.
Gender dysphoria,
I feel phantom pains everywhere:
my ribs, my legs, my neck and my mind.
Gender dysphoria,
It's more of a physical pain than a mental pain.

Frigid night as the snow continues to fall.
People at the library.
Deep, navy blue sky.
Clicking of computer keys and the sweet smell of books.

It's not always figure out someone's weaknesses and strengths to get out of a situation sometimes it's seeing all of potential of a good person and forgetting they aren't that angel yet in fact a demon.
It's not always telling someone the root of their hurt sometimes it's seeing a monster and loving them as if they are human because the world is cruel enough.
It's not always defending your character to someone that won't listen sometimes it's showing someone that not all angels are gods to be worshipped.
It's not always starting a rebellion from Christianize society sometimes it's acting as if you aren't a judge but a friend who is willing to look past the flaws to see someone worth through hell and back for.
Changing the Game is a matter of humanity, it's up to us to change the world.

What am I mad with? For if I am mad with love. Who is it for?
What am I mad with? For if I am mad with desire. Why is it swallowing me whole?
What am I mad with? For if I am mad with death. What am I mourning?
What am I mad with? For if I am mad with courage. What is my sacrifice?
What am I mad with? For if I am mad with sorrow. What am I sad about?

Remarkable Love,
She is breathtaking by her beautiful soul.
Remarkable Love,
She has restarted my broken-heart.
Remarkable Love,
She may be my first love but she brought out a part of me I forgot I had.
Remarkable Love,
A part of me that is brave enough to face anything.
Remarkable Love,
I saw her last night while she was driving. Her dark blue eyes and that awe-inspiring scarlet smile.
Remarkable Love,
She has rescued me again this time with a smile. Sure we aren't getting back together. She reminded me who I need to be with a smile. That is who I have always been a selfless poetess because no one else is me and no one else is her.
Remarkable Love,
Thank you for reminding me of who I am.

Pitter patter
The Rain hits the road
roarrr
The Thunder rolls in the sky

Tick-tock, I hear the constant clicking at the back of my skull as though someone shot the back of my mind with an invisible gun.
Tick-tock, always reminding me pain is never too far away from me.
Tick-tock, gender dysphoria is looking in the mirror and feeling physical pain of being someone you already are. Wishing to be something you aren't.
Tick-tock, gender dysphoria is feeling every fiber of your being tearing away at each cell wanting you to scream in agony in it's wake.
Tick-tock, gender dysphoria is feeling like you are this thing no one wants and letting the loneliness swallow you whole.
Tick-tock, gender dysphoria is always feeling like you aren't enough to anyone.
Tick-tock, you never know how much time you have until your time is up. Luckily, I am not dying young.

Slow, deep kisses.
Another nameless woman, months ago.
The weight of her crushing my legs.
But I didn't mind.
Mousy brown hair and light tan skin.
Light blue eyes and dark pink lips.

One day I will marry someone but not right now because I am single.
Quite frankly I am enjoying being single.
One day someone will make me believe in true love again but not right now because it is difficult to find a soulmate.
One day I will be out of my parents' house where I will be free to make my own mistakes and achievements.
One day I will be out of my religious small town and have new start.
But until that day I will still be me because that isn't changing.

Living to full potential is wonderful, a hero's journey, a villain's nightmare and a rebel's dream.
Some people don't know how so they get lost in the world and blend in.
Some people have a direction and forget the passion then live an empty life.
Some people have so much passion and so many directions that they take all of them to live a successful, memory-enriched life.
Some people simply exist and have nothing to live for then they live a soulless, heartless life where bitterness is their motive.
Life has meaning you just need to find it.

When I got my wisdom teeth out I was put on strong pain meds and my feelings became 20 times intense than before.
I felt lonely so I grabbed onto the future I wanted without hesitation, I was in college. I felt like an outcast in SGA because I had to explain myself so often. I thought I would be bullied like I was in middle school because of my mental disabilities. I wasn't because even though they were popular, rich kids and I was the nerdy, poor kid who just there to have a voice in something. They respected that and loved who I was no matter how confusing my mind was at the time way back when.
I didn't know that making out with the SGA's secretary would spread like wildfire through my college and my hometown. Even though we were a power couple, we still had things to go through and people to meet. After all these years when I heard her love confession to me it was like my old feelings were stirring again and I picked up where I left off by being the endearing lover. Not the lovesick girl that she probably heard rumors about when she stalked me for a year.
I stayed in my hometown and she went back to her hometown.
I am starting my writing and singing career which is great. I mean have been for the last 15 years but now I am actually getting momentum. So glad the Art Man thinks I am talented.

Only a handful of people know that I am a demiromantic bisexual.
Imagine having crowds of people are only friends with you because you are religious and straight. Then imagine only having a small group of people knowing the real you. That's my life.
It's complicated and I don't trust a majority of people in my life.
I was raised in a church and with my rebellious soul, a curious mind so naturally I read anything with facts. I became a well read nerd and made friends quickly no matter their background.
I could get the truth out of anyone because my presence makes people feel safe and I am a good person.

I read old letters hoping to take in the love of the past.
It's like eating stale bread in war times hoping it's enough to fill that roars into the light and dark.
It's leftover love yet I devour it hoping it heals my broken-heart.
I read old letters yet there was a time where the letters sustained hope in me.
It's leftover love and the more I read of the past, the more it breaks my heart.
It's leftover love and it no longer brings me hope yet I devour it to revive what is left of my heart.

He isn't perfect. In fact he is a **** in many ways. He is the new kid at the gas station I work at. He said rumors that weren't true to my coworkers. At first my bosses believed him then everyone figured out he was wrong about me in many ways.
He assumes anything about everyone around him and everyone of my coworkers hates him for spreading rumors about me.
He picks hard battles against the kitchen manager and the store manager. He respects no one at work. He thinks everyone is against him. He forgot about manners when customers be rude to him.

In college I fell for Chelsie. We met on a sunny day after the SGA interviews. At Black Hawk, Jana the student leader organizer of SGA said I got into this spin off of SGA. Eventually while I was in Writer's Guild I became vice president then joined SGA. I perfected everything I could.
Since I was too afraid to go back to SGA, I got to pick who was in the support system and a wooden gavel. I still don't know why. I may be a good judge of character but my mental illnesses make me disabled.
I got a vocal witness which is her. I don't know why she still cares about me so much. According to my psychiatrist's assistant I am autistic. So that's new.

It was freshman year of college. We kissed there was no spark. We lasted a week. You wanted to get married to me and kids with me on day 3. I didn't see that future. You tried to killed me in your car several times going at top speeds because you were angry at something. You texted me multiple times you wanted to **** yourself. I came out to you as bisexual after we broke up. We stayed friends somehow you got worse. You became a sexist ***** because of college. You slap my **** when you want attention. You talk about sleeping with my friends. You make jokes about my sexuality. You generally make me uncomfortable. I am your only friend. I am glad we broke up when we did. I can't deal with this. You are toxic and I know I should leave at some point. You think everyone want to use you for money which is pessimistic on a multitude of levels. Even "The Beast" inside of me can't stand you and that says a lot. I know you are a science nerd but you give that honor such disgrace it makes me want to punch you in the face. I emotionally and mentally stopped investing you already. You are so clingy it's exhausting.

Being a storyteller since I was 7 years old made me invulnerable to pain. I used my uncontrollable rages and imperfect weaknesses growing up to outsmart anyone who couldn't handle my rebellious old soul and heart.
I outran my fears every time until inevitably I left for dead all alone in my bedroom sobbing into my pillow and suddenly I realized I only had myself to trust. If I was going to be repeatedly abandoned then I would have to be my own hero and villain of my own tall tales.
If no one can tell the difference between hero and villain then why stop being a rebel?
With revolutions at a single heart stopper smile and manic laughter then insanity is my best friend.
I am a medically insane, medical journalist so pay the price of your sins confess them to your closest enemy.
Surprise surprise I am morally queer coded as a mentally ill and mentally disabled girl.

She looks down on everyone.
Her venomous glare from idiotic old men to young poets.
She is content behind her computer.
Her salt and pepper colored hair and bright pink lipstick.
If you annoy her then she raises her voice.

I found the old you in a letter. You had so much humanity.
I found the old you in a letter. You were afraid to lose me as a friend.
I found the old you in a letter. Too bad you turned into someone I didn't recognize. You used to be a sweet guy then college turned you into a monster.
I found the old you in a letter. Maybe you were always a monster but I couldn't see it in your handsome dark pink smile and charming blue green eyes.
I found the old you in a letter. Truly I am sorry our friendship didn't last forever. But you were trapped in your misery and you wanted me to be miserable with you. When honestly I was trapped in your world too long so you lost me at your monstrous ways. When you lost your humanity, you lost me as a friend.
I found the old you in a letter. Why couldn't you just stay a sweet guy? The answer is I don't know.

Grief reawakens each year yet all I can remember of my best friend is her kindness and her love. I still feel her love even though she is dead.
Well her body is dead but her spirit is very much alive.
Grief is what no one prepares you for. The constantly missing them, and knowing their spirit is with you. I always leave a space in bed for my best friend's spirit because I know she would do the same if I was dead. She died 8 years ago yet her spirit is alive.
Grief is feeling that huge scar on your heart and knowing the love you have someone else never left.

I know referencing Tessa Violet sounds cliche' but each day I get inspired to write poetry. The only reason why I am not ******* Tessa Violet because she is my friend and I know it sounds weird.
I enjoy my platonic relationships. I know not a huge surprise considering you know me Chelsie. I would rather be friends with my favorite musicians than you know do that.
Whatever Ken said about me isn't true. He hates everyone including liberal bisexuals who know what the hell they are talking about.
His puppy dog eyes aren't worth a damaged pen. I was repulsed by him and his political views. If I could turn back time I would have walked back into the SGA office instead of avoiding you.
Ken made it sound like you hated my guts and told me we were sisters. Even though being medicated and sane enough to vote, I can honestly say, "You could have just talked to me. I would have talked back to you." He gas-lighted me and lied to me for months. You never did any of that. Driving me insane is one thing but emotional abuse is another. There is a difference.

I change the game so he can be confused.
I have mental strategies that make him vulnerable like compassion, empathy, loving and caring about him.
I have emotional strength that makes him feel as though I am complex when my needs are simple.
Friendship is basically good communication and socializing which are my thing. He doesn't even know how to have a good, deep conversation with a stranger.
When I am Unapologetically Myself, he have free will because it's in my instincts to be a good friend.

I left a trail of footprints in the snow as I walked today because I am here.
I smiled as I walked because I am here.
I am alive and free to be me because I am here.
I am here, I am queer and I am totally done with existential fear.

Her eyes as blue as the skies on a stormy day.
Her lips as red as a rose.
Though I don't know her name I have already fallen for this mystery girl.

Truthfully my life from the outside seems tragic, heartbreaking and full of drama. Because it is. I had to face everything that scared me.
I am getting a new medication from my psychiatrist, don't know how I am going to react it but if it helps me get out of my house then I am open to the possibilities.
Truthfully I am still healing, still revealing my heart in songs, still thinking about everything that hurts and still processing.
Truthfully my instincts help me think. I wouldn't be me if I didn't have my protective instincts. My mom and my church sexually repressed me so that ******. I don't like feeling trapped or suppressed. So I think romantically and thoughtfully. I am old fashioned even for my age. I believe love needs to be felt and seen through actions because love without actions is just another feeling.
Truthfully I don't care about ***, status or death. Death never cared who it took away from me. Status always got me into trouble. *** is common knowledge in a small town because who you **** with is what most people care about.
Truthfully I don't think I am better than anyone else because I don't judge anyone. People's privacy rights are theirs. People's human rights are theirs. People's beliefs are theirs. If it's not mine then I respect it whatever it is.
Truthfully my past don't define me. I define me.

My big brother supports everything I do. I have always looked up to him. My big sister would boss me around and try to mother me in a way. As you can see there is a difference between my older siblings. My big sister agreed with my mom on everything they wanted for my path, never let me put word in on my own future. My dad and big brother loved everything about who I was becoming. My little sister looked up to me and she still does. Growing up was difficult for me. I chose not to listen to my mom's patronizing lectures and my big sister's ever growing grip on my socials. I hung out with my dad and big brother a lot. Now that we we are all adults, my little sister understands my rebellious nature. My big brother still checks up on me and supports my creative lifestyle. My big sister still thinks she can control me.
Here is How I Evolve, if anyone thinks they can control me I throw red herrings everywhere I can.
Here is How I Evolve, if anyone support me I will show you an unconditional love like none other.

I am a high functioning autistic woman who is gender fluid and bisexual. Ever since I was little I went to therapy and got help in school. It just my mom taught me how be polite and normal.
When I am not normal and brutally honest.
When I was 7 years old my mom asked if I was gay. So I asked her what gay meant and I didn't get an answer. Ever since I was little the doctors ran every test on me to see how I was developing.
I have always been socially awkward, empathetic, sensitive to light and sounds. Music and writing is how I always expressed myself.
My mom and I never had any deep conversations because that is what school and youth group was for. My mom and I only ever talked about movies and shows. My dad always stood up to my mom for me and defended me to my mom.

I go to his studio and gallery. He creates all types of art.
He teaches people how to make art of their own.
He is an old, kind man who creates connections with other local artists in the Midwest. He is a friend of mine.
He is surrounded by other people's art and his own.
He wears rectangle glasses and have white hair marking his age.
He is going to let me read my handwritten poems at his studio in the winter.

That night I felt her naked body beneath my hands.
That night I felt her lips against mine. The passion and the pain of making love. Her blue eyes and dark brown hair.
Those rosy red lips and that smile. Her enjoying my wild side and me taking in her madness. Before we even touched I was dressed as Rao and her as Christine from The Phantom of the Opera.
I woke up the next morning with a freshly bitten ear and my shins bruised also I walked with a limp. Then the rumors that slept with a girl.
I don't know what to say what is dream and what is reality. I guess it was real. The rumors made it from my college to my religious small town. I only told one person that secret and whoever that was told the whole school. I don't remember ever leaving my bed that night but somehow that dream was a reality.

People now a days says that, "Vibes are everything" well it's a half truth. Personality and true heart is everything because vibes are one thing but who someone really is. That's how you know.
People are complicated, messy, strange and unsure how to go through life. It's instincts that help me through life because knowing who brings out the worst in people is how I use opposite energy.
I counteract bad people's actions by taking their venom and use my actions to be the antidote.

Your naked body against mine.
Dark tan skin and strong muscles.
Your crimson lips on my light pink lips.
How my body fitted like a perfect puzzle piece in your warmth.
Your night blue eyes meeting my coffee brown eyes as I worked at Casey's.
You smile at me at the farmer's market and your cheeks blush scarlet red against your dark tan skin emphasizing your night blue eyes.
I smile back and blush dark pink against my light tan skin making my coffee brown eyes seem darker as I focus on you.
My heart still races looking at you then I remember you are my ex-girlfriend.

The Ancient History of Anglo-Saxonism started off with the English to the French because cultures aren't the same therefore different.
Being different isn't bad and being all the same isn't good.
If everything is the same then nothing is interesting and there would be no cultures to learn from. If by Trump standards making America White Again means getting rid of diversity and new ideals because the American Dream is a fairytale. Chances of becoming a millionaire is a ratio 1 in 1,000 meaning slim to none.
Ancient History teaches us: Hubris is humanity's downfall, Small gods still have backstories, everyone have weaknesses and greed is fruitless. I am not saying conquering places is evil, I am saying ancient history means starting new chapters not repeating past mistakes.

He is a sweetheart to those who work hard.
He is like a brother to me.
He may be demanding, entitled and an idiot but he is a good man.
He defends my honor on multiple occasions to my boss and to customers. He listens to me. He helps me clean dishes in the kitchen.
He helps prep vegetables with me and he makes me smile on long nights. He treats me like the queen that I am.
He is trustworthy, loyal, speaks his mind and makes everyone feel seen.

Today is Different because it's my birthday. Chels, what Ken did to me had nothing to do with you. He wanted me in his bed since high school. You had me in your arms the moment we joined SGA.
You challenged me to be a better person so I did what I do best try make everything perfect, spout out truths, apologize profusely and care too much what everyone thinks of me. When we hugged at the first SGA meeting, you liked me back.
Today is Different because it's my birthday. Chels, everything Ken did had nothing to do with you. What you did to me is okay because I expected to be betrayed by someone in SGA that year. You are still my best friend. I know weird expectations. You are still you and I am still me. Eventually, you will understand that.
Today is Different because it's my birthday. Chels, you said drop the good girl act so here I am. Wild, insane, adorable, nerdy, loving, caring and still around. I am a dramatic ***** so come back to me.
If you don't know that already then catch up.

I am Trapped in Two Worlds. One World where people of the church think I am straight when I am not. Another World where the people of my work place know that I am openly bisexual and everyone in this town knows that I am openly bisexual.
Yet when I am at church I can't talk about ex-girlfriends and ex-boyfriends because to them I am straight... I am not. In that World, I keep my mouth shut and just blend in. In that World, I suffocate from being in the closet around them and the boredom of vanity through small talk because nothing ever changes in the church...
In the Other World, I am free to myself as an openly bisexual woman.
In the Other World, I don't have to care what anyone thinks of me because they know who I am... so do I.

I love the rush of Adrenaline. To feel as those I am doing something scary yet brave. To look fear in the face and give it the *******.
To feel the blood pumping through your veins at double time.
To feel a weight being lifted off your chest.
Adrenaline is the thrill that I seek because I conquered most of my fears. Why not have something that alerts you from your brain?
Go ahead call me an Adrenaline ******.

Nothing is the same.
The Girl with Green Eyes and I barely speak to each other when we used to be inseparable.
Nothing is the same.
I am out of the closet to everyone I know but not to the people I go to church with then again they would never understand.
Nothing is the same.
I am proud of who I am and I like the job I work at.

It's like drowning in a lake of blue flames.
It's like every pounding of your heart wanting someone you know you shouldn't have.
It's wanting so deeply that you breathe to feel that rush of desire consume every sense of your body.
It's a need to be near someone until your lips are on theirs.
It's a need to have their presence seep into yours like a warm blanket on a cold day.
Why do I have this desire if I am too selfless to feel it be fulfilled again?

Only Cowards are afraid to say I love you.
Only Cowards force you to kiss them.
Only Cowards make loving them the hardest thing in the world.
Only Cowards aren't able to cross the line of sanity.
Only Cowards don't know how to kiss passionately.
Only Cowards have no direction to their lives.

Didn't say this then saying this now:
I love you too my Lena Luthor.
I will always be your Supergirl.
You were my first queer love and I am glad you told your parents about us.
I would be nothing but a lovesick lunatic if you didn't give that love confession last year.
You inspired me to be a better poet.
You inspired me to sing my heart out.
Didn't say this then saying this now:
I want us to be friends again. One of these days. Some part of me will always love you Chelsie!

I write poetry to give a voice to people like me who are bisexual, mentally disabled and mentally ill.
I write poetry to give a voice to bipolar people and schizophrenic people because I am bipolar and schizophrenic. And chances are they are afraid to speak up because of stigma regarding the mentally ill and the mentally disabled.
I write poetry to give a voice to bisexual people because I know hiding in the closet *****. And I want to give those people hope if they are trapped in a religious community. Because other queer gave me hope while I am trapped in my religious community. We don't even have a Pride Parade in my town.
I write poetry because I am free here among my fellow poets.

You couldn't be happy for me because you wouldn't understand what it is like to be medicated for something you can't control.
You couldn't ask my mom what was wrong with me last summer because you are a coward.
You couldn't ask me this year even though I would have gave you the answers.
You couldn't stop thinking about yourself for one second to be concerned and see me for one day.
You are so used to icing people out and pushing people away when you don't realize that I am the only one left who cares about you.
You couldn't ask if I was okay because you are scared of me saying no.
I checked up on you everyday you were in the hospital but you never even wondered how I was. Time really does fades things that shouldn't matter.

I want to change only socializing at work.
I want to change how I beat myself up over the past.
I want to change how my thoughts being negative about my past.
I want to change how lonely I feel sitting my bedroom thinking of a better life.
I want to change how stupid I feel when I have no words for my feelings.
I want to change how my family think of my love life. I am not hopeless or stupid or uncapable of thinking for myself. I can consent to my own life as insane I am. I accept my madness. I accept the messed up past. I accept the negative thoughts I have.
I accept that there will always be drama no matter where I go. My life is not a debate. I am still human. I have flaws and I accept them.
No one has a right to my love life. The poems that I write are personal I get to choose who publishes them.

She has dark blue eyes, black glasses and a smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
She has a slender body, chestnut brown hair and when she looks me with her dark blue eyes I forget what I am doing so I smile back.
She is beautiful in ways I try to understand from the way she laughs to the way she walks. So I appreciate her beauty with each glance in her direction.
She is confident, smart, funny, vivacious and beautiful. I know she isn't mine to love but I hope whoever she loves, loves her the way she deserves to be loved.
I still care about her even if she isn't mine to love.

The Sweet Girl has lightly tan that it is almost pale skin, full, dark pink lips and light blue eyes.
Her voice is as gentle as the wind.
She is vivacious and kind. She has a dimple on right cheek when she smiles.
She is someone I work with.