this is my body
all awkward limbs & jagged frame
a mountain of bones
arranged haphazardly around wooden joints
i didn't want to be a “real boy”
but i didn't want to be a real girl either
i wanted to be a beach ball
or a kite
now my throat is a chimney
my lungs are a fire
& i don’t care who’s between my legs
as long as they spread me
like bible pages
that’s to say,
i don’t believe in god
unless i’m getting nailed
or writing boys eulogies in my underwear
the way i draw maps on my skin
to where the wild things went
i think monster in the closet
is synonymous with my coming out of it
skeletons and all
clinging to me
like dream catchers
full of expectation
that got caught in their nets
that’s why i take
"proceed with caution"
signs so seriously
and i do,
i do at night when i am alone
far from home
& scared that my gay is showing
i do
when boys want more
than to just split me in two
& leave both halves of me
draped over the bed
i do
when it comes to loving him
so unconditionally
that my heart feels like
the only muscle in my body
with any fight left
this is my body
it’s bent & broken
with anxieties
but it is mine.

For a few minutes he just stares in silence, I stare back.
Wondering what he's thinking
As I think and overthink about the eagerness that swells in my belly when he stares into my heart. Hoping he won't read what I'm writing in my head. Don't stop staring.

i really don't feel like talking to anyone but you.
Just make that stare last forever.

please stop romancing cutting,
depression, eating disorders,
anxiety and suicidal thoughts.
those things are not beautiful.

it is not beautiful waking up
every morning wishing you
weren't here.

it is not beautiful having to wear
long sleeves in the summer to
cover up the scars on your arms.

it is not beautiful throwing up
in the toilet just so you don't
gain another pound.

it is not beautiful missing school
for a month just because you
couldn't drag yourself out of bed
to see daylight.

but you can be beautiful with
cuts and scars all over your body.

and you can be beautiful even though
you aren't too happy about your weight.

oh, and you're still beautiful if you haven't
socialized with people for a couple weeks.

and you're still beautiful even though you
blew out your 16th birthday candles wishing
you were dead.

you're beautiful, but the things that you have done to
your body aren't.

...save everyone," they said.

                                                                    They were right,
                                                                          I died trying.

I sat there, for ages it seemed
waiting for my punishment to end,
to be redeemed.

My torturer is only doing the job
she was given. She tries to send
forgiveness to the angry mob.
In heart a word has risen.

You may leave this wooden prison
if you promise you'll never sob
again when your king hits
his queen or when she is abused.

But I refused.
Now here I sits.