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Let’s get something straight
I’m not
Or at least, that’s a situation in question
But that’s not what I’m here for, you see
The acronym LGBT has a terrific little tail that everyone tends to trip over
And the conversations that transpire when I attempt to try the closet door
Leave me frequently swept under the rug
Maybe I’m just a little lost in translation
But they should know that identity is not orientation
And it can be tricky to articulate, so I don’t mind the extra explanation
But I’m telling you there’s a tipping point where you can’t expect me to take it
To tally up the talks I’ve had tearing apart the phrase
“So, genderfluid is like another word for bisexual, then, right?”
Because there’s already this his-and-hers internal tug-of-war
So tying in other types of ignorance just gets tiring at times
And trying again and trying again and again to get the point across
Leads me down a tangled train of thought that runs off the tracks in unclear tangents
Because conversations transition without the intended amendments
Because these transcripts would transcend the usual transfer of data
Into transgressions and obsessions with more than I’m able to
Confirm or confer without temperamental reactions
Feeling entirely translucent overlooking their infractions
Wondering why more words aren’t composed in a way that allows them
To be transposed to neutrality or at least farther from
Specific definitions testing how gendered things can get
Wondering why I don’t make any sense yet
Let me be perfectly queer
The acronym LGBT has a tetrad attraction detailing at least part of this
Just a trifle of understanding if you’re looking to comprehend it
And if you don’t care to learn then don’t bother to ask
But take some time from your day and I’ll try to make it fast
Go ahead and interrogate, I don’t mind all that much
Whatever trips your trigger, as long as it’s not pointed at us
I can’t speak on behalf of every transgender teen
But if you don’t know a word, I can tell you what I mean
I can text you a trillion terms to absorb
Or trim down the lesson to the basics if you’re bored
But don’t tell me that pronouns are a hassle to learn
When they catch in the throats of those just waiting their turn
To stop hiding their tears and be treated the same
Teaching one person at a time until the world hears their true name
Don’t expect trophies, but I’ll give you my thanks
Don’t tease us about the clothes that make our spines and souls ache
I want to wear this letter T like a cross from my neck
Saying the prefix trans- means across and I like it like that
Traversing the spectrums and binaries all mixed
Transcontinental, transatlantic, transfixed
By the beauty in boys and the glamour in girls
But mostly the neithers and boths in this world
Don’t tell me it’s a transient, temporary tale
Or that I’m totally enamored with getting off the most followed trail
I’m taking back traumas and tense muscles and taunts
Until tentative trespassers give us what we want
A presence, a voice, and all human rights
It shouldn’t be a privilege to feel safe at night
Don’t tiptoe around troubles, just stand with us here
Add a voice until we trumpet our triumphs and cheers
Take my hand, hear my voice
Listen, learn something new
Because LGBT has a cross and
Cross my heart
I’m with you
There's a poem about you that's waiting to be written
There are words that circle your lips
Falling, slipping, spilling from my fingertips
Into late night confusion and moments of nothingness
You're a page in the center of a book with a prologue that I haven't read
But I'm still imagining the way the ink stained paragraphs would lend themselves to film
Because every story can be told through so many mediums
There's a poem about you that is waiting for the right words
I wouldn't call it attraction
I would call it an admission that having you at my side is oddly comfortable
I would call it a confession that I wanted to reach for your hand a few times
I wouldn't call it more
I haven't been lost in the starlight of your eyes
I haven't scattered butterflies from my chest
I haven't longed for lipstick stains and inside jokes, sharing, and falling apart to rebuild each other, listening, loving, forgetting the past
I don't think you and I are a would be could be should be
But I do think that you deserve something different and that I want to be someone new
Funny how those match
I think that even though you haven't sparked music in my soul
You have poems about you that are waiting to come to light
Because you have ink in your veins to tattoo words on your bones
And you're a table of contents out of context pointing to a chapter left untitled
You're a hardcover book, but not one to bother with the slipcovers
And you've got a spine that's been bent but is not easily broken
You're a story I want to read, not one I'd want to live
But I do want to write poetry about you
Because you're spilled ink that might as well be a Rorschach test
You're paper pages that act like kindling
You're words that shy away from being spoken
Or written
And there's poetry floating through the air that is sure to rest on your shoulders
Because I'm sure that your heart is shelter to thousands of words left unspoken
And your pulse is sewing together the phrases that you never said
But I'll never really know why my hands warmed up at the touch of yours
Because some poems just aren't meant to be written by me
But they're still out there waiting for you
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