She goes to the clothing department; they make her try on clothes from the junior’s girls section. The get frustrated with her because everything they hand her she tells them that she does not like. They patronize her... telling her that she is a girl she needs to dress in young girls clothes. What they don’t know is that this “girl” feels as if she wasn’t meant to have grown into a woman that they claim her to be. Her body screams young teen girl but her heart says otherwise. They tell her she might as well go to the guys section and pick out clothes because they give up. Her eyes lit up. All she ever wanted was to dress in what she felt was more her than anything. She smiles and starts to walk towards her dreams when they stop her and make her leave. The clothes she is wearing is only what they dream her to be. Nothing is good enough; nothing that she does seems to be what they feel she needs. So she writes, trying to hide the pain that they don’t know they are inflicting on her self-esteem. If they just knew the scars that they’ve drew onto her heart and soul. She cries at night only when she is alone because she feels it shows weakness. She slips on his clothes and she feels complete bliss. The pronouns they place upon her she knows are incorrect. They always put emphasis on “her, she and girl” all of the words send her heart into a whorle when she realizes… in her mind, her heart and soul she is no girl. She writes about her life and instead of using her, and she and girl she uses the words him, he and boy. In her mind, she tries to find a cure for what they think is a disease. In her room, down on the floor begging on her knees.. Please fix me. When in reality nothing is wrong with her. She was born into this world with the doctors rejoicing it is a healthy baby… girl. I did not cry because of the noise or the craving of my mother’s touch but I cried because his diagnosis was wrong… I was meant to be born a healthy baby… boy

The words I want to say crawl to the back of my throat as their looks towards me speak before their mouths could.
"Excuse me, but are you a you know... lesbian"?
A fire burns inside of me ready to spread out into the open across everyone.
The only way I knew how to respond was "I am a human being, if you are asking for my ****** orientation the answer is that's personal I don't even know you so why does it matter"?
Their stare morphed into an offended expression.
I thought that it was quite obvious though, my hand was melted into hers and our looks towards each other were very easily detected.
We're a couple.
I kiss her as they walk away offended, and turn back to see up lip locking in the courtyard.
Being immature teenage boys they placed their hands over their mouths and bellowed out "OH ****"
We just smile and the words I love you slip out from our lips at the same time and I look to her and whisper you're my ****** orientation.

It's midnight.
I look out the window as my heart cries out for her to come lay beside of  me as I take in this breath taking sight.
The moon shining through the clouds as if it were a night that werewolf's would be sitting at the top of a cliff howling.
I choke back the tears as I close my eyes and hear her sweet voice calling me in the halls of our high school.
Memories flood my head... how she could take even the worst possible situations and make them as beautiful as this night.
I can't help but to think that she is staring at the moon as well and that in this moment we are once again connected.
I feel a warmness throughout my body as I think about the last time I saw her.
She was dressed up in costume getting ready to put on a play.
Even in Alice in Wonderland make up she was stunning.
What if she too is taking in this sight and thinking about me?
When the sun comes above the horizon will she too be thinking about me?
I fall asleep at night with her name on my breath.
I wake up saying good morning to her although she is not beside of me and is what seems like 1,000 miles away.
Call me crazy but I call it commitment.
I love her.
She is the song that I play on repeat within my chest.
I will be back in her arms one day and that night we will stare at the moon together.
I will fall asleep in her arms and we will make new memories together as we make love until sun up when I will tell my sweet good morning to where she will actually hear me.

I close my eyes at night, and everything fades to the memory of her and I in the bathroom at our high school.
Awkward silence fills the bathroom as we stand in front of each other.
Her in her greenday shirt, blue jeans, and converses looking stunning.
I was in my usual NWHS hoodie, skinnies, and my black op's.
She was biting her bottom lip and looking to her shoes as if she were begging me to touch her but too shy to say so.
She wasn't wearing her glasses that day and it made it so much easier to see how the light reflected off of her dark green eyes as her red hair slipped down the side of her face.
I slowly pushed it back into place behind her ear, she smiled her sideways smile that stole my heart the first time I saw it.
I walked closer to her and placed my hand on the cool tiles above her head trying to act all smooth, but she knew better.
I gently pressed my lips to hers as she quickly backed away after our lips made contact.
I stepped back thinking that I'd done something wrong.
When she slipped her hand so sweetly up my arm to my neck and leaned in once again as our lips moved up and down against each other.
Her lips were as soft as satin and yet so heated like the sheets on a bed after someone has slept in them all night.
She tasted like sweet melons, but blamed it on her gum.
I made my way down to her neck as she cringed begging me no no not there as if she knew I was starting something that I couldn't finish... at school.
I bring my attention back to her lips when the bell rang for me to go back to my third block.
When I walked away and turned the corner I had to stop and lean against the wall to catch my breath and realize I just kissed the girl that I fell for back in fourth grade...
And she like d it... my dream.. became a memory that will soon be reality again.

Coming out to my family was more than difficult.
I hated myself and felt as if I had let them all down.
That they wouldn't accept me.
The day it had happened, I didn't plan for it... but I was violently dragged out of the closet by the roots of my hair and un-understanding looks and stares crept over my body for what seemed like forever but couldn't had been any longer than thirty seconds of nothing but a burning sensation throughout my body.
Their eyes traveled over every inch of me.
They didn't speak, and then again they didn't have to, their eyes said it all.
It was mothers day, and at the time I lived with my aunt who sat with my grandmother who approvingly shook her head and told my that all ******* shout be dead...
I sat helplessly listening to all of the derogatory words fleeing from their lips as if they were bats from the hell they said I'd go to for loving girls.
My aunt asked me "what do you "like" about women Katlyn..." as if she were a therapist about to solve all of my problems with talking it out only to try and play reverse psychology on me.
But what she didn't know is all of those 16 years I'd spent in that dark, lonely, un-needed, ridiculous, stupid, figment of societies imagination called a closet that categorizes someone's anxiety and fear of showing their true colors a magnificent rainbow because of the hate and discrimination that would flow out of them like this poem flows out of my heart.
I spent all of those 16 years trying to come up with things that I didn't like about women because that seemed more simple than what I did like... all I had come up with was that I couldn't love them and be open about it without someone hating our love and lust for each other.
So I answer my aunt with this " I like nothing about women, but love everything about them. I love their personalities, I love their physique, I love how strong that they have been created although it is people like you who doesn't support them that ends up breaking them into a fragment of the woman that they truly are, I love how their hearts are beautiful and a story book ready to read if you give them the time and attention that they not only feel that they need but deserve, I love a woman's smile when you call her beautiful, I love how a woman's eyes tell everything about her, I love how a women kiss with their lips so plum and passionate, I love how women come in all different shapes and sizes and how every single shape and size defines them all as a beautiful, mystic, and **** perfect being, I love how all women are unique and how not one woman is exactly like another, I love how a woman clenches her thighs around my body as we declare our love by caressing ourselves over each other becoming so close that for that moment that we are making love we become one human being, how I get a fever from the friction our bodies make against each other, how I melt into her as she flows over my body in the bed that you bought me. I love how they make me feel the way that no offence but a man never could. I love how women tastes and how mine left little morsels of her pleasure on my sheets and you touched them with your bare hands and you sit there claiming that being gay is a disease... all I have to say is if that's the case, you've been contaminated and you have my disease of loving women and now you are as gay as me.

I'm sorry that I'm not there.
I'm sorry I'm not there to wipe your tears away when the stream down your precious face.
I'm sorry I'm not there to hold you, and tell you how much you truly mean to me and that you are the Superman to my Batman because that's how we explained our love.
I'm sorry that I left and never got to say goodbye to you...
I'm sorry that I didn't get to kiss your lips one last time, how the taste of you stayed with me all day and not once began to fade just like my love for you.
I'm sorry that I let you down.
But most of all... I'm sorry that I let you fall and now I'm gone.

I see her around the school all the time.
Never did I think that it'd be her touch... just the right one that I need.
We had the same classes, and unknowingly the same life styles.
Her hand brushed mine as we both reached for a book...
Apologizing at the same time we noticed this was the first time we had talked since the eighth grade.
She had bright red cheeks that matched her red hair, with a smile that could power all of New York City.
One touch of our skin and I instantly became addicted.
They should make a Lesbians anonymous, for girls who crave the touch of "her" and have withdrawals  when kept from it.
Her green eyes over powered me...
With her I am Superman and those eyes sparkling so bright are my biggest kryptonite.
One gentle brush of her hand against mine was enough to have me begging on my knees for just one more time.
She brushed her hair behind her ear as she sideways grinned and looked down to her feet.
Her glasses reflected me in them... all I seen was my lips against hers and my hands holding hers against the wall as I slowly lost the fight to her kryptonite.
I'm now without her touch and love... but have you noticed... Superman always comes in contact with kryptonite again.