I drank to your eyes
and your smile
to the freckle on your left shoulder
your fingers stretching forward into mine
or running through my hair.
I drank to your lips
and that stupid *** grin
to your peace and your patience
or the lack thereof.
I drank to your absence
on every inch of my skin
itching like bug bites
but not wanting to make a scar
you were just a girl
I kept reminding myself.
I didn't drink to anything else
I didn't think to
this skin has renewed
I didn't think to
it's never been touched by you
I didn't think to
by your filthy ******* hands
I didn't think to
I didn't let you make a scar
I didn't think to
when you finally did
I didn't drink to you.

Dear Alyssa,

I am trying to say your name, but it is so foreign to me I cannot believe I once called it my own. It is stiff and uncomfortable, and sticky and sad. I cringe every time I hear it, it was never my home.
But I will never not envy the fact that our mother handcrafted it for you while Avery was never touched by her beauty. When you think beauty, I know the only thing you think of is Montana Walker. The girl in your English class with the freckle by her smile who plays chess with you at lunch. But when your father thinks beauty, Alyssa is still his first thought.

Dear Alyssa,

When you were in sixth grade, you dreamt about me. I wore a pullover hoodie and a backwards hat with one arm slung around Montana's shoulders. You were afraid to touch her, but me, I wasn't intimidated by her. She was quiet and tall, I was taller and loud, my chest was open and breathed proud. You never believed you would get there, and you aren't. I am miles away from loud. I am unable to speak up for you. Even when  I was called a ****** my first day of public high school. Even when I was called a "******* ****** *** ****" by a member of our own community, someone who shares so much of our journey. I didn't speak up for you or me. I'm sorry.

Dear Alyssa,

I'm sorry I tried to tear you open to see if I was hiding underneath. I'm sorry. I was not underneath. This is no woman's body because it belongs to me. I was not underneath.

Dear Alyssa,

Mom and dad are right. You are beauty. You are pretty and feminine and sweet. Alyssa, you are the prettiest boy you'll ever meet, because frankly, there is no girl I used to be. We are inherently male because we are supposed to be.
**** biology.
**** transphobic members of the LGBT community.
**** that at 15, you've reached half a trans* person's life expectancy.
**** that you will never be allowed to join the military.
**** the life that they want you to lead.
You are me.
You are the boy I used to be.

Dear Alyssa,
I'm sorry.

Sincerely yours

P.S. I should've loved you more.

I used to steal cigarettes from a pack paid
for with my own money from my parents
closet just to gain the slight satisfaction of
how they felt between my fingers
I have never been a quitter
and I don't intend to begin with this
the first night we were together I left a bruise on your thigh
don't you see
I was just marking my territory
baby
I promise
I do not think you are owned by me
but baby,
please belong to me
I know these hands aren't always steady but
they will always try their best to keep you upright
they will always try
until the night I can say it hurts more than it nurtures
but right now
I don't hurt at all
I'm not giving up with every ounce of courage my cold, sweaty palms can muster
do not give up with all of your nurture
with all of your nature
it is human nature
to run now as fast as far as your feet can take you
but now I'm standing still as a statue
trying my best to come true
as a prayer
as a dream
as a wish
I will do my best
to work
and if it doesn't
it will hurt
but every word it was absolutely worth

it is awfully romantic
to imagine that we do not hold yesterday's values in our back pockets
to think we never held these values to someone else's temple
the barrels of our guns do not light every limb of our family trees
we are lying
if we tell you our ancestors wanted the white house to be home to a brown boy
rage no longer pumps through our veins but it sneaks through the holes in our understanding, we are still responsible
and it is awfully romantic
that we sing songs of freedom from oppression in spite of the fear of the woman walking down the sidewalk in the middle of the day
leave love notes in our constitutions after the letters "P.S."
whisper promises to minorities that things will be better then strike them down declaring we've done enough
it's not enough
it is awfully romantic
to believe none of this is relevant anymore
the only relevance of gender is what pronouns to use
the only relevance of skin is our lover's wrapped up in ours
but we are not a love story
even when we want to be
this is not a love letter
it is an apology

you were so beautiful
the first time he told you that you
were too big for any man to handle
you were so beautiful

when he told you your stretch
marks were ugly so you cut them open
they were only evidence of you growing, becoming
now there's only the proof that you are lost, not knowing
you are something so beautiful

even though I know the heart
shaped bruises covering this
body do not feel like love bites
even though this body does not feel like yours anymore

even though he left you shaking
on the bathroom floor just trying
to find the strength to lift you
head to the toilet to ***** some more
you are so beautiful

even though this body
your body
has been empty for so long
you are so beautiful

I've always had a
sweet tooth, but
you had a
taste for
my
adam's apple
you took a bite
every time we kissed,
now I can't say your name
without my voice
tripping over
your heartbeat. the
seeds are falling out
naked and bleeding,
nothing sounds
like us
anymore

hydrofluoric acid
can cleanse
away chemicals
I learned
in
chemistry love
is
chemical
how much
hydrofluoric acid
do I have to down to
cleanse myself of
you

tick tock
his lips graze
church bells
in time to his
shiny new stereo,
in better shape
than his eyebrows
he raises
like a puzzle
we fit
helplessly together
iI know nothing
of peace but
the
tick tock
of his
heavy breath
on my scripture
he keeps locked
up tight
in a mason jar
with all his
closest friends
for prayer circle
friday nights

dysphoria can be defined as a general unease or dissatisfaction, a discontent
but dysphoria
feels more like a disconnect
my heartbeat feels more like a defect
when it throbs against my shrinking ribcage I can feel that it's making a dent
dysphoria
comes from a greek root meaning "hard to bear"
it is hard to bear
****, it's hard to breathe
literally
physically
I cannot breathe
I cannot be free
dysphoria is when you have to close your eyes while you shower so you can't see
each breath shakes as it comes out of me
there is medical material clung so tightly to my body
it has become an extension of me
and nothing on me belongs to me
I am trapped beneath waves of what I can't stand to be
my body of water
feels more like an anchor
I am drowning
and you can tug at my spine but you cannot feel me
I cannot even feel me
I would do anything to make these ends meet
dysphoria grabs hastily
a current does not care your worth, it just pulls you under
dysphoria does not care if you deserve better
dysphoria is a disconnect
and I haven't found directions
to the end

it is not uncommon for my younger brother to ask me for help picking out his clothes
but today
he took off his shirt to try on a new one and stopped, looking down, viewing that his stomach stuck out past his chest as most little boys do and said
"I think I'm kinda fat"
he is eight years old
I could probably fit one hand around his entire thigh
he pokes and prods at skin that won't give because what he thinks is fat is simply keeping his organs in
he has already been preconditioned to believe he is not enough
or he is too much
he is eight years old
I don't know whether to tell him he isn't 
or to explain to him that he would not be any less valuable if he were because I don't want him to take it as an insult
I don't want him to feel hurt
like I do every time I see myself in a photograph
he is half my age
I ask him why and he grabs his stomach and says
"I see fat"
he is eight years old

you've got me
without you I'm not looking for any eternity
you're holding all of the Milky Way Galaxy
and too small to see, that's me
the man on your moon
couldn't be more stuck on you with glue
I'm your goon
your baby
your love
you've got all my love
with no ties left undone
every string attached
you're my match
as in a light in the dark
I don't know what I've got if not this spark
like Noah's ark
two of every creature
one of you and one of me
we'll sail away together
and know everything the world has for us to see
hear
feel
taste
I can't find my senses
it's a rigged race
and we're winning
baby
it had to be you and me from the beginning

I was an afterthought.
A question
A doubt
A maybe
A someday
An eventually
An I'm not ready.

I felt safe with you.
can you believe that kind of ******* irony
you were home
even when you locked me out
even when I smashed your windows
and you still wouldn't let me in
you were a light at the end of the tunnel
even when you were the ******* tunnel
even when I bled from your wrists
even when the all six shots never missed
even when the only piece of you left to hurt was me
even when you hurt me
you were safety.

now I keep thinking how you feel in his arms
I hope he is a house that will never be home
I hope he never ever writes you a poem
I hope he can't **** the emptiness out of you
I hope he can never make you feel as happy as I do
I hope you miss me every ******* day
I hope you know that you will remember me as the one that got away
Because I ******* am

I am not an afterthought.
I am an answer.
a first choice.
an only option.
a right now.
I am the light at the end of the tunnel
I am the one you couldn't regret leaving any more.
I am closing your door.

When I was young, my Sunday school teacher said that my prayers lacked genuine emotion. She told me to try praying with a blanket wrapped around myself and my eyes shut to imagine that God was there holding me.
I always wondered why God wouldn’t actually hold me. I still do.
And I know that I have a lot of expectations of God for someone who doesn’t believe in God but my hope has been so hard to let go of.
But if we are made in his image, why should anyone let their hopes get so high?
Do you know how to keep a stranger from crying?
Do you know how to mend the bullet shaped holes in your mother’s voice? Of course not.
Do you know how to end a war?
Do you know how to be content?
Do you know how to be happy?
I imagine that sometimes God gets unhappy.
If we are made in his image I can only hope that he continues to evolve as we do, allow his followers to evolve as the world around us does because I swear I will lose my **** if I see one LGBTQ+ youth commit suicide. If I see another woman get kicked out of her church for aborting the child she couldn’t afford to raise. If I see one more country start a war over what they believe; God, can you see?
You’re tearing us apart.
You’ve turned humanity into a human race.
You’ve turned our earth into a military base.
So please, God, give us something to trust. Give us your saving grace.

does your body shake
when you
look down at your bruised knuckles
does it look like
the world is dangling
like a yo-yo from a string
tied around your finger
or does it tug
like a noose
on the last morning you thought
this world would finally
leave you alone
did you feel me
when the butterflies in my
stomach
flew out the end of
your unlit cigarette
were you trying to breathe me in
or ******* away
it doesn't take much
to ******* away
I am that string
wrapped around your finger
with the world on the other end
pulling us down

she was 5lbs 3oz
for the circumstances, she wasn't so small
with potential to grow big and strong
but potential is different from promise
Nevaeh
her name is heaven backwards
I suppose because she was born backwards of heaven
her little heart beats so fast
Nevaeh
if her name was Heaven, do you think she still would've been born with hell pulsing through every vein in her body
do you think she would have to recieve nutrients through tubing
do you think her organs would still reject everything that could help her get healthy
do you think her mother would still be allowed to bring home the baby
do you think God would still be trying to take her away from me
Nevaeh
withdrawal is not cute. even on a baby.
Nevaeh
her mother chose for her to be born dying
Nevaeh
there is a better place, potentially
but potential isn't promise
Nevaeh

she used a sewing needle
to tattoo stitches
up my spine
when she asked me if
I loved her I
pulled her
palm to my
blistered chest so she knew
the dull thuds
she's hearing are
not ticks of a
clock, they are
my heartbeat
making way for the
next time she wants
to use me like a napkin
I will help her get clean
every time
without fault
she can break my heart
as many times as she
pleases, so long as
she keeps
coming back to tattoo it together

hold me like a wish
like dandelions are sprouting from my cheeks
even if they are weeds
hold me like dandelions on my cheeks
or an eyelash on yours
hold me like I'm yours
hold me like I'm more
than what she told me
tell me I'm so much more
hold me gently
hold me like safety
from the bomb
she held me like the safety
on a gun
I promise whatever I do it won't be leaving as long as you don't hold me like you're about to run
hold me like you want to keep me
she held me like she broke me in the store and figured she'd take me home since I'd had to be paid for
hold me like I'm more
like you saved every penny even though you found me secondhand at a thrift store
like both of your feet are soundly in the door
hold me like I'm yours
I'll hold you like your mine
we'll carry ourselves like we don't belong to anyone
and for the first time, it won't be a lie
I'll hold me like I'm mine
I'll hold me like I'm mine

it has been a week since you tried to die.
and I don't know if my body will ever recover because
you wanted your blood on my hands
but all I can feel is your pills pulsing through my veins
my heart hasn't steadied in days
and I'm not doing anything to make it anymore

you never loved me back.

and you can swear to me that it isn't true but it is
this isn't what love does
I thought you were love
I thought you were a band aid
or duct tape
or a seatbelt
or a map
or a lifejacket
but you are not a lifejacket
you are that huge ******* sea
swallowing me whole
you're afraid of the ocean
but you don't know a fear like this
maybe that's why the ocean scares you
maybe its too reflective
maybe you always knew you were going to do this
it's been so easy for you to forget you were all I knew I had

you never loved me back.

a week ago you tried to die.
a week ago you taught me a betrayal I've never known.
a week ago I found myself without a home.
I will never be able to come home again.
you will never be my home again.
I will never know home

knowing the view next to me
was better than a dream
I stayed up
kissing the makeup off your face
blinking your lips into my horizon
now
I can't sleep
knowing your lipstick
is sitting on his bathroom counter
he will wake up
and eat my favorite breakfast
which is anything you make
even if it's burnt
I'm hungry

we get it, poets. things are like other things.
this is a familiar concept to us all so why do we speak in metaphor all the time?

it is because when we tell you we feel like our insides are on fire,
we feel as though we are a house that is burning down until all that remains is a fragile frame accompanied by a pile of ash,
it is not a metaphor

it's a simile, notice my use of like or as

but it is not a metaphor

when you stick a cigarette between your teeth you do not fail to light it
the thing that does the killing will **** you
and you will let it

when you write down the exact amount of pills you took and the number of days you felt worthless tallied into your stretch marks
there is no metaphor there

my poetry isn't metaphor
it is a direct reflection of honest to god feelings
I have never written a poem not meant literally

we get it, poets. things are like other things.
but that is a simile.
things are not other things.
we do not speak in metaphor.

I never thought I was falling
in love with you
I only knew
how much it would hurt to let go of your hand.
I only knew
that I would never be the one to let go of your hand.
I only knew
that you would stop kissing my sun starved cheeks
I only knew
that I could never cut you off.
I only knew
how much it would hurt to let go of your hand.
I only knew
that it would hurt.

she told me
if she had to be my world
she would wear the equator like a noose
she told me
that no man is ever permitted
to find the coordinates of her love
only explore the snowy mountaintops of her ice age
she will never be anything but cold
she will never love anything but herself
and that would be okay if it were true
but it isn't
I know that one day a man will happen upon
the correct latitude of her heartbeat
he will find a way to pull every continent back together
while I tried to swim from one to the other
I will drown in her oceans
in her eyes
in her words
she will tell me it isn't my fault
she will tell me she wishes she could have loved me like I loved her
she will tell me she is sorry
and she will be
and I will forgive her
but his arms will wrap around her waist
an equator she won't hang from
and he won't have to forgive her

my heart doesn't work
this isn't an angsty teenage metaphor
it leaks
and there is a depression in my heartbeat
my veins are weak

my heart has four chambers like four quarters of my lineage
and one half is made of shame
my grandfather unknowingly instilled in me
with the pain
carried in her pelvis
my weak veins are built of his DNA
so much of my body is made up of shame
I wonder if he'd even known her name

my heart doesn't work
this isn't an angsty teenage metaphor
I feel more than anyone I've met before
my core aches with a pain that isn't even mine
I carry shame
throw it like pebbles out to sea
so it'll skip over my son
when he looks up at me
his heartbeat will be lively and carry our name
there will be no leakage in his veins
and when I hold him
we will not know any shame

I used to
think my
addiction
to you was
healthier
than one
to cigarettes but
your lips taste
like nicotine
and I
can't
stop thinking about
kissing
you.

the sea looks deeper,
bluer,
greener?
when you
stitch the gaps in your
hands to
mine all I see is
pink.
all I see
is the pink, pink sea
with the angels
kissing
it's eyelids,
the waves falling
into mine
where has my pink sea gone?
I squeeze
my eyelids shut in search
of the sea's
where has my pink gone?

my knuckles aren't bruised
anymore
she doesn't make me fight to
drink her holy waters
I read your scriptures like a storybook
but they never came true
why didn't you come true
I believed in God until the second after I met you
you told me
I was so good
you had already been corrupted
you were afraid to make me impure
but my heart was pristine
I stayed clean as long as you were
you were so good
I prayed to God
but you didn't come true
I burned my bible to cover the scent of you
I stopped praying to God and started wishing on stars
I swore I'd fight the ******* sun
but now
my knuckles aren't bruised
my son shines like the moon and she
has never failed to come true

she tells me she is unhappy
says that depression is getting harder to overcome and I want to tell her it gets better
but I know it won't help

she tells me she is unhappy
and I would give anything to be able to make her happy
But I know I can't
So I just say that I love her

Sometimes she is different
Sometimes she is not who I want to love but I do anyway and it hurts
it hurts the way hard liquor burns down your throat but you keep drinking to try and grow accustomed to her sting
But I've always been a lightweight
And there is no one around to cut me off

I thought I'd be good for her because I've dealt with depression before
But I've never had her depression before
There has never been a time I didn't have one foot in and one out the door
Sometimes you feel like loving her is a chore
But I have no choice

And one day, she won't be unhappy

my body is an anchor
you can tug at my spine
but I'll still be drowning
my body is an anchor
it weighs me down in your ocean
I want to drown in your body of water
my body is an anchor
it stays docked at your fingertips
I want to drown
I want to drown

home has never been anything but this
dark eyes promising every inch of light to me
his fingertips tracing the dips between my ribs
bruises trailing from my neck to the inside of my thighs
but this love didn't hurt
his rough hands slipped in mine
the first time we kissed
he was nothing but soft
nothing but gentle
nothing but home

I'm sick,
Come nurse me
I'm starved,
Come feed me
I'm tired,
Come wake me
I'm scared,
Come soothe me
I'm drowning,
Come save me
I miss you,
Don't let me
I'm here,
Don't leave me

That nature moves in steady rhythms and cycles is one of the most fundamental realities of our universe.
I never meant to hurt you.
When you told me you loved me.
When I didn't say it back,
When it happened again.
"Fool me once," you said, "fool me once."

And I am still waiting for you to come back again.
I am still waiting for you to come crawling back with familiar stories of superiority hiding in the pockets of your ripped jeans- I mean- how often do you see leaves fall while they're still green?

For us it happens every season. The reason you keep coming back is not out of love therefore how can you be surprised when I fool you twice, three times, four times, is this what love looks like? Five, six, seven, the heavens do not feel bad for you anymore. God may be forgiving but I am not and you hurt me just as much as I hurt you, I-
I did love you.

everyone you meet takes something away from you
let it be a smile
or a helping hand
or a lesson
or your wallet or car keys
but please don't let it be your self esteem
we put our most valuable possessions in the hands of strangers
you don't have to pickpocket a ribcage to take the beating heart inside, it is wide open
yours for the taking
please handle it gently
please don't let me
reach in and take you out
you are worth so much more than a whistle as you walk down the street
you are worth so much more than the robbery you are about to meet
please
give up your purse
or your credit cards
or your social security number
give away time and space and energy
give away love and wisdom and patience
give away the best you have to offer
but don't give yourself away
don't hinder to what anyone has to say
lock your ribcage and hide the key,
do not give it to anybody
only unlock it to check that it still beats
unlock yourself to others only on your own territory
give away your house
your jewelry
your computer
you cell phone
give away everything else
but keep yourself

webster's dictionary defines the word human as a person. webster's dictionary also defines a person as a human being. webster's dictionary defines a word's definition with that word as another part of speech
my definition feels just as far out of reach
when you're teachin us how to think with every word you preach do not be surprised when we **** it up like leeches
why don't you teach us
some history we don't already know
the two male manicurists in the Palace of the King during the Fifth Dynasty of Egyptian pharaohs  
were in love
but I didn't learn what gay meant until my preacher spat it out
I froze
the first time I heard the word transgender
I was in sixth grade when my sister
told me she had this friend who felt like a boy
and I had to learn on my own that this body I'm in does not need to be destroyed
no one had ever taught me why my veins shook
I never read that in a textbook
despite transgender people being praised in ancient cultures throughout
the Middle East
Europe
Asia
North Africa
even though transgender people have been recorded in nearly every civilization recorded in human history
but taking History has never taught me any of my history
so it is no mystery to me why when you're asking for a definition
all I can tell you
is webster's dictionary defines the word human as a person and webster's dictionary also defines a person as a human
and I define a definition as whatever webster's tells me
and maybe that fact is the only real thing that defines me

I have never met someone so incredibly irritating. She is disagreeable, and argumentative, and stubborn, and impossible to please.
When I told her I love her lips she got angry that I focus only on her beauty.
I told her that I did not only mean that they look kissable, and God, you know they do, but I love the words emitted from them when she screams at some misogynist ******* whistling at her from the slightly rolled down window of his car.
She complained that I should be yelling too.
I could propose with all of Saturn's rings and she would complain that they are secondhand.
You ask her about love, she'll tell you about heartbreak.
As would I.
But maybe we all would.
Maybe we are all sitting starry-eyed staring at the ground waiting for the wrong person to put us upright, maybe there is no right.
Maybe she is right.
Maybe Saturn's rings hang too heavy on her heartbeat, maybe all I need is to be a string wrapped around her finger while I've been tied around her neck like a noose.
Maybe she'll cut herself loose.

I keep lying
to my
shoelaces
one day we'll
grow somewhere
beautiful, tie
ourselves into
the soil of a
forest, the trail
tripping into
the beach
like the moon
to the tide
I want to be lost

I still have
a
cigarette burn on my
chest from the
time
you told me
how it
feels to love me

I
lied
when
I
told
you
it
didn't
hurt.

the alcohol was not my escape.
you were.

the only pain
stronger
than the one lying alone on your
bedroom floor with
an empty
bottle clutched to your chest
where she was supposed to be
is the pain
lying on the bathroom floor
when all you
can
do is try to lift your head
to the toilet to
***** the
rest of her out of you

all my daydreams take place at night
with your fingers in my hair
and my head between your thighs

I
Want
To
Kiss
Where
The
Sun
Hasn't.

Every night
When we're whispering in bed
You get sleepy
And ask if I don't mind you drifting off
And I know you'd stay up if I said I did

And every night
When I say I don't mind
You say goodnight
And call me your prince
Then I say sweet dreams and hold your hand

Every morning
I wake up
Kiss your head and make you coffee
And you wake up to me saying "I love you"
Then you drag me into the kitchen where we make breakfast

And every morning
I make a mess of our ingredients
Because I'm distracted by your eyes and I'm a terrible cook
And you laugh at me, then burn the scrambled eggs
And I still love you anyway

Even though the eggs are my favorite

she warned me she was a handful
thank God I have two hands
I couldn't unhook her bra with one
she apologized
the first time I saw her naked
she said sorry for every stretch mark
said she hated her thighs,
*******,
hips
I kissed them all until it hurt my lips
and every place between
tried to make her love her body like I did
she apologized
as I watched her dress again
she wore vulnerability like an orange jumpsuit,
a bit too square for her structure,
I apologized
for knowing she is not as untouchable as she likes to think
her body,
as tattered and fallible as the heart clinging to it
is touchable

write me fireworks
write me sunsets
and butterflies
write me your first cup of coffee in the morning
write me early mornings
and late nights
write me your brother
                 your son
                 your uncle
                 your cousin
                 your best friend
                 your boyfriend
                 your husband
                 your lover
                 your love
write me your smile
write me your heart outside of your body
write me never missing a beat
write me necessary
write me your last hope
write me your first
write me love
write me the second half of your name
write me your shoelaces you can't quit tripping over
write me the first note you played on your out of tune guitar strings
write me the band aid to your scraped knees
write me the cure for your hiccups
write me yours

still beating in
the palm of
my evergreen
tendons,
your branches
rooted deep as my
feet could wander through
the forests of
your cold
shoulder.