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2.5k · Mar 2018
Heteronormativity
Felicia Coffey Mar 2018
We live in a straight world.
You might not think it’s true,
“Gays are coming out everyday
could be them next or her,
maybe you too”
Well I’ll take a minute to prove it to you.

If I told you I’m into girls
I’d see your brain short circuit in real time,
“But you don’t look gay” you’d say.
“Straight passing” is what they call
a girl like me, who still looks feminine
but doesn’t want the D.

This “luxury” of remaining in the closet
is really hurting my game,
Added another straight boy
to my list of those who lost it
when they heard me exclaim,
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m gay”

Let’s not forget the most important issue
“Gays will ruin the sanctity of marriage”
Here, I’ll hand you the tissues.
Man and woman, hand in hand, till death do they part,
and yet more than half of all marriages
end in the perfected art of divorce.

Far be it from me,
to take anyone’s right
to do and say what they want,
while you embrace the hate
and live fighting the inevitable reality
of any queer couple tying the knot.

It might be 2018,
but I still can’t hold a potential partner’s hand
in a public facility
without getting disgusted leers
and a dreadful look at multiple cases
of unprovoked hostility.

So, try to look me in the eyes,
And tell me I’m not right.
But despite it all
I’ll keep my head up high
And let that rainbow flag fly
Because this might be a straight world,

But love is love

is love

is love.



And that concludes this winded verse.
I wanted to write something that showed the struggles of being non-straight within the LGBTQ+ community that still exist, even in 2018.
Felicia Coffey Sep 2018
You’re straight because you mistook your discomfort around men as attraction.
You’re straight because the one man who should have loved you, didn’t.
You’re straight because the media makes love look like a man and a woman.
You’re straight because of the look of disgust on your mother’s face when she asked you if you were “experimenting” with your best friend and the tone with which she said “good” when you answered “no,” the first lie you’ve spoken to her.
You’re straight because your grandfather calls lesbians “carpet m%nchers” and gay men “c%cksuckers”.
You’re straight because your great grandmother would rather you end up with a man of color than another woman, and she’s terribly racist.
You’re straight because the love you were denied by your father has to be fulfilled by some other man, like it’s his fault your father couldn’t find love in his heart for his own children.
You’re straight because everyone asks if you if you have a boyfriend.
You’re straight because every man who was ever nice to you, you seemed to fall a little bit in love with.
You’re straight because your aunt and uncle started a facebook argument with you over the bible’s interpretation of homosexuals, and you just couldn’t let that go.
You’re straight because you think brunette women are beautiful, but you don’t feel more beautiful after you turn your blonde hair brown.
You’re straight because you think the feelings of attraction you’ve ever gotten towards a woman were just normal because you’ve never had crushes on them.
You’re straight because you’ve never had a boyfriend, even when there were men interested.




Think of the lie you would have lived
if you didn’t recognize the truth in all those lies
you thought were genuine feelings.
1.3k · Jun 2018
Compulsory Heteronormativity
Felicia Coffey Jun 2018
She was a stranger.
Cute, freckled, one of the most beautiful smiles.
And when she looked at me it felt right.

He was a stranger.
Nice eyes, a full beard, tall and burly.
His eyes glanced my way one too many times to be coincidental.

With her I felt comfortable, at ease.
It felt right to smile at her and laugh with her,
and even though I knew it would go nowhere it made me happy.

With him I felt a dull excitement, a small thrill.
It felt good knowing that there was a man around that wanted me,
even though I was sure that I didn't want him.


And that is how I know.
Because laughing and smiling at a new girl felt closer to love
than the lingering lustful looks of an unknown man I was told already wanted me.

I used to grasp onto the smallest bit of attention from a man,
falling over myself with feelings at the mere possibility of being loved by one. Its been years since I've felt that way, I've outgrown the falsehoods about what I thought I knew.

I belong with a woman, I just know I do.
when a thursday afternoon bbq solidifies a question i ask myself everyday. "am i really gay?"
698 · Mar 2019
the loneliest number
Felicia Coffey Mar 2019
gulping down the agony
your irises shift like your schizophrenic sister
at the annual Christmas party

alone in a corner
whispering family drama
to air shaped like a person.

you ****** your head forward
like the motion would rattle loose
the thoughts that are stapled inside.

you breathe out in relief
when you find they’re gone
and the only person

you ever have to trust again
is yourself.
sigh out the real truth

you don’t trust yourself
as far as you can throw yourself
and you crash landed into rock bottom.

sometimes you wish you were like your sister
the only friends she needed were in her head
but you can’t get anyone to stay longer than a few months

you think the problem was choosing the wrong people
you just attract the bad ones
but you’re probably the monster

you just can’t see it
who can blame you
you wonder if your sister knows she’s crazy

because in her world she’s probably
the sanest one there
you wonder if she’ll let you visit

book an express ticket to straightjacket town
meet the friends she’s imagined
but feel more real than any friend you’ve ever had.

you realize that she might have to swallow
tic tac imposters on a daily basis
to keep the world inside her

not outside of her
but at least she doesn’t have to be this
lonely.

there are no friends in your head.
483 · May 2018
Me, Fe.
Felicia Coffey May 2018
A writer, aspiring poet,
constantly afraid that she’ll blow it.
A daughter, loving sister,
insecure that anyone could ever miss her.

A misfit, won’t ever quit,
pretends she doesn’t actually give a ****.
A poser, laughably mediocre,
she draws her originality from the ones before her.

A reckless forgiver, a generous spender,
hold her back and you’ll most definitely suffer.
A blunt speaker, a big dreamer,
bitterly honest because she couldn’t ever stand being known as a liar.

A level six sorceress, an RPG-er,
she’s a d20 that never manages to roll a high number.
A voice with many accents, a toolbox filled with talent,
she wants to voice the characters in a first-person shooter.


                                                       *

But mostly, she’s the girl
who overwaters flowers
because she feels bad for them.

Who dyes her hair bright colors
because she gets bored
and simply for the hell of it.

Who battled cancer for over a year
but can’t manage
to call herself a survivor.

Who wrote this poem
even though she thought
she didn’t have the words for it.
404 · Mar 2018
Living Nightmare
Felicia Coffey Mar 2018
You know the relief you feel
once you finally come to consciousness
after spending a night
haunted by the most violent dreams?

The intake of oxygen upon waking
and the solace of realizing you're safe
That was what I felt
the moment I decided to leave you.

Now I can finally sleep
without having to wake up
to the pain I lived with
when I was with you.

Being with you was always a nightmare.
i've never slept better.
342 · Mar 2018
"You deserve the world"
Felicia Coffey Mar 2018
Your words repeat with an intent to change,
but all of your actions just stay the same.


- to all of the people who said they were going to treat me better but didn’t
329 · Mar 2018
Cancer
Felicia Coffey Mar 2018
Because it’s not terminal,
And statistically curable,
Do I have the right to say I survived?

When it’s all said and done,
And the battle is fought and won,
Will I deserve to be crowned victor
If the trophy was handed to me
Before it had all even begun?


Did I suffer enough to deserve this?
Written the day I was diagnosed with cancer, May 22nd 2017.
297 · Jun 2018
happily single
Felicia Coffey Jun 2018
every birthday candle wish was a wish for love
for someone to see me and love me for it
but then i got a taste of a relationship

and from now on

every birthday candle wish will be for solitude
to remain alone and happy
because the taste i got was so sour

i ***** a little every time i think about it now
273 · Apr 2018
Never A First
Felicia Coffey Apr 2018
You were my first relationship,
but that's all you were.

You weren't my first kiss,
my first date,
my first dance,
my first time,
my first love,
or the first person
I naively put all of my hope into.

But I'm going to find someone
that will be all of those things for me
and more.


I am so glad it was never you.
272 · Sep 2018
First "Love"
Felicia Coffey Sep 2018
The apologizes hurt,
the promises sting,
your once beautiful words,
no longer mean a thing.

You never cheated
but you always lied.
A truth as true as these tears I cry.

You never beat me
you never raised a hand.
but you never kissed me
and always me sad.

You wouldn’t let me leave
even when I begged and begged to go.
Keeping me chained up, and hollow.

Two girls “in love”
with a future bright and true
oh, nothing makes me happier
than the day I decided to leave you.
243 · Jul 2018
Emotional Consent
Felicia Coffey Jul 2018
I am not a well to be pulled from.
I am not a dumpsite.
I am a human being.
And taking from me without giving an equal amount in return
is no way to keep me in your life.
I will leave the moment it happens
because the first person to do that to me took and took
until I needed medication to fill me back up again.

I am tired of being a landfill drowning in other people's trash.
196 · Mar 2019
locks
Felicia Coffey Mar 2019
as i comb through wet strands
and witness the gentleness
of the teeth
pull loose hair
that didn't want to stay
i'm catapulted into the past
when poisoned cells
tore the locks from my head
in a desperate attempt to live

i did not realize
that when the cells stopped killing themselves
the hair would still fall
unmolested but pulled free
as easily as it did before

there are more ways than one
to tell that something has been lost
its not just the noticeable scar
or the two bottles of pills
or the doctor's appointments
every two-three months
it's the hair that continues to fall
in mourning of what was lost
and what can never be again
183 · May 2018
Welcome Home
Felicia Coffey May 2018
When some people think of their childhood home
they're greeted with fond nostalgia and warm smiles
memories that feel good to remember.

When I think of my childhood home
I'm greeted with flashes of emotional abuse and constant fear
an iron box that took my childhood and left it bare.
179 · Jun 2018
Replacement
Felicia Coffey Jun 2018
It left a physical scar - a quarter inch thick and two inch long slice on the front of my throat. It sits there, a bump in what was the once uninterrupted expanse of smooth skin. The redness an obvious and unavoidable contrast to the paleness that surrounds it. A reminder of what was - of weakness, illness, the minor but distinct threat of death, the reminder of a strength I didn’t know I had until I had no other choice but to muster it up.

But it’s the emotional scar that bothers me more. They took the ***** out but the rage stayed. Its burrowed its way into the spot that hunk of human tissue used to call home and its only grown since -
moving in,
unpacking all of its things,
painting the walls,
adopting the frustrating habit of always being late on its rent.
Morphing me into someone that I don’t entirely understand anymore.
Someone so stupid and reckless that I don’t care if it ends up killing me.

Sometimes I think the cancer never really left.
That I just took its place
An understudy that plays the same role,
maybe just not as well as the lead can,
but well enough that its hard to remember
that the lead was replaced to begin with.
6/16/2017 - a year since
178 · Oct 2018
relief
Felicia Coffey Oct 2018
its been five hours since surgery
and my mom sits in the lightly padded wooden chair next to me
laughing harder than I’ve heard her laugh in a long time
the cause of her laughter is the sound of the voice
they couldn’t get rid of in me
because it cracks like a teenage boys’ on the verge of puberty
it hurts to, but I laugh along with her
not just because I can find the humor in it
but because only a few hours ago
I was in tears, happier than I’ve been in a long time
because I actually woke up.

because the cancer couldn’t get me.

— The End —