i will render you
in word
in ink
in the trembling of my hands
and the racing of my heart beat

you will be sculpted
in the most loving way
taking extra care on
your pretty eyes
and soft lips
and crooked teeth

i want your grin to
be a mirror image of
the one that feels saved
just for me
but that’s probably silly

if you’ll allow me
i’m gonna draw forth all
the beauty i see in you
so maybe you’ll see it too

all the love i harbor
for you
shining through
my fragile and human ribs
parting like tree limbs
for this bright light

we can stand under
this burning sun together
you and i, lover

and i will render you
with all the care and tenderness
these shaking hands of mine
are capable of

i still don’t know
if i have been able to properly
express the sheer terror

of being seven years old
and realizing i liked girls
but that i
myself
was not a girl

words like homosexual
and transgender
did not exist to me
and were adamantly not
taught about in schools

this lack of knowledge
not knowing that i could
be anything beyond that
six letter word on
my birth certificate

the only conclusion
i was able to come to
as a scared child
was that i must
have been a
freak

there was something wrong
with me and within me
feeling my guts twist
every time i was called
a girl and not knowing why
it hurt so bad

and now
as a young man
i am able to find words that
downplay this nine years
of confusion and turmoil
shaping that pain into
something that is palatable

i do not have to do this
nor should i be expected to

but it is easier than saying
i was hellbent on destroying
the body i had because it
was not what it was supposed to be

it is easier than saying
i was willing to die
as a girl

if that meant the pain would stop

there is blood in my mouth
i know it is my blood
could be from
tooth cheek nail
throat raw from crying

my hands are shaking
a catalogue of sensations
that are making
my knees weak

and i know you’re
talking to me
can see your mouth moving
think i hear my name
but can’t be sure

there is blood rushing
in my ears
through the frantic beating
of my heart

and i just want it
to slow down
keep from stumbling
over itself when
i think of you

and you’re still talking
i think it’s to ask
if i’m okay
and i want to ask back

what do you want
me to say?
what do you want
to hear from me?

because it hurts
it hurts
it hurts
it hurts

i know how this goes
well-versed in the concepts of
unrequited
un-reciprocated
and unavailable

this is a dance
i know all the steps to
leaning towards you
across a well-loved table
like ocean waves
against the shore

two fires rage
in all the blood in my body
rushing to my face
and the alcohol in my
otherwise empty belly
wrapping myself in a cloak
of courage

and i know how this goes
you know of my attraction
you are flattered by this
you cannot reciprocate this

and this stopped being fun
a little bit ago
spending my nights with tears
in my eyes
wondering why i am always the
one to fall

i guess we are all
shackled to things
in one way or another
ya know?

i am shackled
to my own heart
and firmly tied to hope

so close that it
has me in a choke-hold
that i am no longer fighting against

and i know what you are
shackled to, my dear
this deep and aching sadness
that is only made for you
to carry

and i will carry this
torch for you
for now

at least
until my heart decides
to listen to my head again
and i fall back on all
those “un’s”
like i always seem
to do

i can be gone when you wake
if you want me to be

it helps that you sleep in
choosing not to greet
the dawn twice

and i don’t know how
to ask if you still
want to see me
once the alcohol is gone

some things are easier to say
to do
when liquid courage sloshes
around in my belly

like forcing my tongue
to cooperate into the words
needed to lay
my heart on the table

trusting you to do with it
with my confession
with my affection
with me
what you will

and i want to bring you flowers
and other silly little things
that i hope you’ll keep
but i opt for other things
that can be shared
though made with you
in mind

and i wonder if this
will go anywhere
beyond sharing drinks
and so many words

and i wonder
if whatever we have
did go further
would either of us
be able to stand it?

my heart just so
happens to be a
muscle the size
of my fist

but my heart is
so much softer
than all this cartilage
and bone that i can
break against
so many different things

and i want to be soft
to be full of love and
light and the reason
that you smile

is that selfish of me?
i am still trying to answer
that question
but none of my answers
are agreeing with me

at least there is no
more guilt
curdling in my guts
along with the wanting
to kiss you

and i want you to
taste your name
on my tongue
make me bleed

with the force of
your mouth against mine
and i will thank you
with our blood
mingling on my chin

with my heart
fluttering against the
cage of my ribs
beating a soft rhythm
to the sound of your name

you ever just get distracted
by how nice you look shirtless?
because this is a new thing to me
admiring what a skilled surgeon
was able to craft out of
so much extra
wasted
useless
skin

and i spent 9 years
clawing at the inside
and outside
of my body
trying to cut out
what made me feel so trapped
and wrong

i was not nice
to my body
this vessel that houses
the very essence of who
of what
i am

i did not know how
to love the peaks
and valleys of flesh that
i only wanted gone
soft in what felt like
all the wrong places

and i am still learning
to love this body
sculpted into a form
i know how to live with
to live in

pt.2
and i am apologizing
to all the parts of me
that bore the brunt of
this journey to
the man i was always
meant to be

this is a love letter
to my body
to the scars where my
******* used to be
that a dear friend
and then my mother
carefully bandaged for weeks
when i couldn’t bear to
look at them

this is for my
soft tummy
my thighs that jiggle
when i walk
for every part of me
that i once hated

this is for being able
to look at myself
in the mirror
and speak softly about
the softest parts of me

this is a love letter
to the little girl i never was
to the little boy i yearned to be
to the man i have become
and the body that carried me

this body that
sustained me
and this body that
refused to die