Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Dec 2018
ethan
when i was a freshman one of my friends told me that there was a girl who was talking about me
asking why i was pretending to be straight and that everyone could tell that i was gay
my friends and i laughed it off like children and i quipped “i’m not pretending anything, just ask anyone and they’ll know”

now, i think of the rainbow socks, the only thing i own with a rainbow on it, being shoved down to the bottom of my sock drawer as if it would pop out at any minute and proclaim it’s existence if it were any higher. now, i think of the rainbow highlight that i applies in the bathroom at midnight, pausing every now and again to make sure i was alone. Now, i think of the pride nail art that i scrubbed off my nails minutes after i painted it on. now, i think of the last word in a poem that i wrote and turned in, scared i was being too obvious with the word they.

now, i think of the horrible creature sitting in my chest that simultaneously begs to never tell my secrets and to also scream them from the roof tops. i think of the sludge that lives in me and climbs up my throat, whispering safety into my ear while also ripping apart everything it touches. i think of the pain i feel whenever i say that i’m gay, because it makes things easier if the works sees me as a girl who loves other girls.

before thinking of this poem i had sat back and wondered how many bottles it would take of the various prescription medicines that my parents kept in the kitchen cabinet to **** me. when i remembered the name they would put on the tombstone i stopped and walked away. i remember the time where i couldn’t walk away and i had reached in and grabbed a full bottle of ibuprofen and i took a single one, hoping that my screaming head could be sated by the feeling of a single pill crawling down my throat.

i had a dream last night about someone called addison.
they looked me in the eyes and before i even knew what they looked like their physical form flickered until they were a bright shining star in a vaguely human form.

they sat next to me as we floated in a void on a picnic blanket and they put their arm around my shoulder which felt like a hug from someone i used to know but had forgotten
i stared at their glasses that looked too much like mine as they flickered in and out of existence and they told me i was not where i was supposed to be.

i didnt ask them where but they heard it anyways as if breaking into my thoughts. they answered that they could not tell me and when i thought why they said they didn’t want to spoil the fun of a brighter future for them and me.

i woke up with the taste of lavender on my tongue and the desire to change my name.
i’m not sure who i want to be
 Dec 2018
Luzita Pomé
You call me
She, Her, Daughter, Girl
Shhhhh...
You speak with a blind mouth,
Look at me, see me
She isn't me,
Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale.
I am not broken, I am free
But you hide behind a veil
Afraid to finally let go of...

Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress
You question each time I show you my truth,
"Are you trying to hide your femininity?"
No, my femininity is simply not my definition.
Spend a day in my skin, in my cage,
And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers,
Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase.
Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense?
You speak to me but your voice seems distant,
Bouncing off of me and echoing
Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see.
"I am right in front of you, you know"
But my words are only heard when they come from her lips.
Do you see me now?

Mother, Children, Wife, Woman
A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not,
Stomach swollen, hair to my waist
The glow of an expecting mother on my face.
Curves, not edges,
Pink, not blue.
Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place.
Do you see me now?


Pants swollen, hair to my brow,
Along my jaw,
Down my legs,
Sprouting from my toes.
Do you see me now?
Bulged, Buzzed, Boy
Blood on my sheets, not between my legs
Stained by the girl who lies in her place
Fresh coat of gel and cologne,
Swirls of shaving cream.
Bare chest, Burning skin
Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short,
Nervous fidgets with a tie,
tick tock,
"Pick me up at eight"
"Treat her right" "I will sir"
"Will you be my..."
"You're going to be a father!"
"You are the best daughter we could have asked for"
...."Son" I whispered.
But you didn't hear,
Please tell me
Do you see me now?
Any one who can relate to this but can’t say it, I hope I can be your voice.
 Dec 2018
Cecil Miller
By the time
This is through,
I'll be
Far from you,
But not the memory
Of every single thing
You've done to me.
See, I won't be free.

Here's the deal
That is real
No matter what you say,
I bleed this very day.
Nothing's sealed.
I'm not healed.
I just don't talk about
The wounds anymore.

By the time
You are mad,
I'll be
Looking back
Won'dring if you're coming
After me to do to me
What you do to me.
See, I won't be free

Here's the deal
That is real
No matter what you say
I bleed this very day.
Nothing's sealed.
I'm not healed.
I just don't talk about
The wounds anymore.

By the time
You are through,
I'll be
Still trying to
Erase the scars of every single thing
You've done to me.
See, I won't be free.

Here's the deal
That is real
No matter what you say
I bleed this very day.
Nothing's sealed.
I'm not healed.
I just don't talk about
The wounds anymore.
I just wrote this, tonight, in one sitting.
Don't judge too harshly.
I get dark when I am hungry.
Scars, we all have them. We all give them.
 Dec 2018
MaeW
I haven't taken a sip of coffee since the day that you left.
Life's become boring
Days never end
Nights don't sleep
The bitterness is much too strong to bear
The black orbs that once held that liquid
Sit empty on the shelves
I haven't taken a sip of coffee since the day that you left.
And my eyes aren't blue
For they have seen grey
And my soul isn't pure
For it has witnessed death
And lies are drugs
Luring sailors to their demise
That soft voice in the middle of the night
Calling. Begging. Pleading.
The hallucinations are alright, I guess
It's nothing that a cup of coffee won't fix
But I haven't taken a sip of coffee since you left
Not one drop
Not a single one  
Yet I still see you standing there
In the mirror of your grave
In the eyes of the beholder thy beauty lays
A drop of water, wasted in the forest
A drop of water, long forgotten
Fell through the tap
On a cold summer morning
The tap fixed and no more water wasted
I have drunk three cups of coffee now
And although I see you still
Now you are happy
And your beauty is within

— The End —