In high school middle school and even elementary
I wasn’t in the popular crowd or the cool kids
I was just on the sidelines like I wasn’t even there
I was the kid known as that fairy kid, the queer, and the ****

I wasn’t known as who I really am.

So when I walked down the halls
I could hear them call me names
I saw them point and laugh
I still do.  
I can still remember everyone that has called me names. Queer
I can still feel it resonating in my head. ***
I still hear the laughter in the throbbing pain in my head
like the pressure of my blood pumping through. ****
I see their faces floating around like in the movies.

---In reality sometimes they’re gayer than me

I cried almost every time I was in the shower
No one could hear me
No one could see me
No one could feel the same way as I did

I would always look at the razors sitting there beside me
Trying to get my self to just grab it.
And see if the pain would go away with just one cut
I almost tried to commit suicide

I couldn’t use the razor
The sight of blood makes me faint,
I needed an alternative.
Then fire caught my eye,
and then my skin.

The pain felt like it was cold then like a bee sting all at once
But I did it more I could still hear those names
I could still see them staring and laughing
It wouldn’t go away
It couldn’t

I did this for months
Until I faced the truth that it would never take away the pain
The pain was there, is there, and always will be there
Their face will still laugh and taunt me in the back of my mind

But times are getting better
I have my friends and family to help
The pain is still there just not as bad with their help
But that’s the story behind the smile

And if I was gay
Does it matter?

There is a vase sitting on my nightstand
filled with the crumbling remains
of what used to be
the most beautiful bouquet of snapdragons
I have ever seen.

It’s been there,
sitting next to the window
for months now,
melting in on itself
and today you finally asked me
why I hadn’t thrown it out yet.

Maybe it’s because
I never want
to lose that moment
when you gave me those flowers
and told me
you’d never stop loving me.

Maybe it’s because
I never want
the piece of my soul
that melts at your touch
to become solid again.

Maybe it’s because
I want to
etch the way your eyes gleamed
with the hope of tomorrow
onto the inside of my eyelids.

Maybe it’s because
if you stopped loving me today
I could look into the soul
of those wilted flowers
and be reminded
of our love.

But no one likes maybes
so I told you
I hadn’t had the chance yet

The wave of your love
washes over me,
drenching me
in hopes and dreams
and yet somehow
I still manage to choke
on the seashell of panic,
worried that I will be swallowed entirely
the moment the water
trickles down my forearm.
You’ve given me the heimlich
so many times that
I start retching before
You even reach me.
The sting of the bile
of my past in the back of my throat
Begs to be brought up again.
I try so hard to shove it back
into the deep dark hole
it came from,
but eventually
it bursts past my lips
And sprays all over you.
I attempt to clean you up
but I can see the remnants
of my pain all over your soul
And yet you still smile.
You're gleaming teeth
look as if they were made of pearls
and your eyes look magnificently blue,
overflowing with the ocean
of love you still have for me.
You strip me of the wetsuit
that shields me from your ocean
and I melt into you.
Blending lava and water
in a steamy swirl.
Fiery hot and chillingly cold.
Etching our love for each other
in every bend and curve.
Leaving burns and ice ******
all over our souls.
The hole in my heart
that your ocean filled
frozen into place.
Permanent.
Your ocean carves out a place
for itself in the mountain
of my worry
and turns my mountain
into a canyon replacing
worry and panic
with love and trust.
The seashell of panic
crushed in your wake.
Now as the wave
of your love
washes over me
I no longer cling to the sand
begging for shelter
I dive into your ocean
naked and laughing
hoping to drown
in the sea of your peace.

My heart beats
to the pounding
of your fists
on the drywall
of my heart.

My veins pulse
to the beating
of your words
on the windows
Of my mind.

My bones rattle
to the slamming
of your body
on the pipelines
of my flesh.

My "house" crumbles
to the exposure
of your soul
on the foundation
of my life.

You spit out
a dry laugh
to try to hide
the death
in your eyes.

The desert
you call a soul
is so full
of memories
that *****
your mind
like cactuses
drawing pieces
of your happiness
like blood.

You try
to wash away
the reflection
in the mirror
with the salty rivers
pouring through
your tear ducts,
but that only blurs
your view
of reality.

You use your blade
to paint a more beautiful life
on your thighs
with crimson hopes
that someone will notice.

The happiness
of the life
you once had known
is buried deep
in the graveyard
of your thoughts
but the skeletons
you keep
in your closet
are in full view.

You dress them
in armor
and they fight off
the love of the ones
who care for you
like an elite force
of warriors determined
on destroying
the foreign feeling
of compassion.

You try to replace
the feeling of love
with the lust
of boys who's tongues
whip you with lies.

You plead with
every God
you have
ever heard of
every single night
to save you
from the darkness
but the doubt
in your heart
snuffs out their light.

Every day
you **** off
another piece
of your self
with the sword
of depression
leaving an
empty shell
of a person
in your place.

When are you going
to realize that
you're my reflection
and I'm trying
to shatter the mirror?