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Thanks for nothing. These past few days really have shown some true colors.
I'm sorry I love you
I'm sorry I care
I'm sorry we ever got involved
I'm sorry for trying to help
I'm sorry for noticing those cuts on your arms a few years ago
I'm sorry for falling in love with you
I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you now
I'm sorry I'll never be good enough for you
So thanks for nothing. I've been wanting to cry my eyes out all day and praying for you to at least look at me in the street when you're coming at me with your car.  
I'm sorry I'm not skinny.
I'm sorry I'm not pretty.
I'm sorry I have an annoying laughter.
We went to the doctors and I was forced to look at the spot you first kissed me
I'm sorry I have a dry mouth
I'm sorry I'm awkward with my body
I'm sorry my hand doesn't perfectly clasp into yours
Yesterday I watched a documentary about drugs
I'm sorry I stopped you from living your life
I'm sorry I crush all your dreams
I'm sorry I let my own fears interfere with your life
I see you standing there when I'm waiting for no ******* reason and I just want to feel your body again intertwined with mine
I'm sorry I'm short
I'm sorry my hair is always tangled and has static
I'm sorry I'm at least a good eight inches shorter than you
(8 inches from heaven)
I brace myself for you when I'm at my own door.  I miss you coming up and saying hey with that stupid smirk that I've traced over and over in my head
I'm sorry I don't initiate things
I'm sorry I think your presence is a present
I'm sorry you shut the door
And I didn't knock
I saw the spot where I ran up to you two years ago and gave you a hug because I hadn't seen you in over a month.
I'm sorry for our past.
I'm sorry for not kissing you that moment.
I'm sorry for nearly knocking you over.
I see you when I'm doing math, mental or not
I'm sorry I didn't listen to you
I'm sorry I didn't care at time
I'm sorry that a ******* parabola makes me think of the never ending possibility that there could be someone else
You're making me realize that everything that we are is a mistake.
I see you in the bricks that are in the walls. They take me back to when we started talking on that wall about music
I'm sorry we like the same music
I'm sorry for not holding your hand
I'm sorry you have become such a solid thing in my life
I see you in ever ******* face I've been trying to draw but I can never perfect the lips because I can't remember how they felt up to mine
I'm sorry for not being good enough
I'm sorry for thinking love is real
I'm sorry for thinking we could work
I'm sorry for all those times I held your hand because now I realize that you were a drug and you're gone and that this is withdrawal.
I'm so ******* sorry.
It's a text
There is a Chinese proverb that says
Kissing is like drinking
Salted water
Because that act of drinking
Only increases the thirst
And with your touch
There are oceans in my lungs
There are waves of brine in my throat
Knocking into sodium crystals
That dissolve themselves
Against the roof of my mouth
But the sweetness of your voice
The syrup of your kiss and the sugar
Of your promises
Turn my tongue into
Atlantic City’s taffy
And the rushes of blood through my veins
Crest and break
With white foam
And I’m wary of the silver fins and ivory teeth
That must be gathering at the call of the red in the tide
But still I swim out farther
To take in all that I can
Quaffing rivers
Streams
Rain puddles
And oceans
Until somehow my thirst is quenched
Or until I simply surrender to your arms
Because a parched throat may be maddening
But your embrace calms the waters
That made sailors reach for sirens
And it’s a red sky at night on the ocean
As we lean in for one more kiss
an old poem that i decided to post
Let’s get something straight
I’m not
Or at least, that’s a situation in question
But that’s not what I’m here for, you see
The acronym LGBT has a terrific little tail that everyone tends to trip over
And the conversations that transpire when I attempt to try the closet door
Leave me frequently swept under the rug
Maybe I’m just a little lost in translation
But they should know that identity is not orientation
And it can be tricky to articulate, so I don’t mind the extra explanation
But I’m telling you there’s a tipping point where you can’t expect me to take it
To tally up the talks I’ve had tearing apart the phrase
“So, genderfluid is like another word for bisexual, then, right?”
Because there’s already this his-and-hers internal tug-of-war
So tying in other types of ignorance just gets tiring at times
And trying again and trying again and again to get the point across
Leads me down a tangled train of thought that runs off the tracks in unclear tangents
Because conversations transition without the intended amendments
Because these transcripts would transcend the usual transfer of data
Into transgressions and obsessions with more than I’m able to
Confirm or confer without temperamental reactions
Feeling entirely translucent overlooking their infractions
Wondering why more words aren’t composed in a way that allows them
To be transposed to neutrality or at least farther from
Specific definitions testing how gendered things can get
Wondering why I don’t make any sense yet
[Breathe]
Let me be perfectly queer
The acronym LGBT has a tetrad attraction detailing at least part of this
Just a trifle of understanding if you’re looking to comprehend it
And if you don’t care to learn then don’t bother to ask
But take some time from your day and I’ll try to make it fast
Go ahead and interrogate, I don’t mind all that much
Whatever trips your trigger, as long as it’s not pointed at us
I can’t speak on behalf of every transgender teen
But if you don’t know a word, I can tell you what I mean
I can text you a trillion terms to absorb
Or trim down the lesson to the basics if you’re bored
But don’t tell me that pronouns are a hassle to learn
When they catch in the throats of those just waiting their turn
To stop hiding their tears and be treated the same
Teaching one person at a time until the world hears their true name
Don’t expect trophies, but I’ll give you my thanks
Don’t tease us about the clothes that make our spines and souls ache
I want to wear this letter T like a cross from my neck
Saying the prefix trans- means across and I like it like that
Traversing the spectrums and binaries all mixed
Transcontinental, transatlantic, transfixed
By the beauty in boys and the glamour in girls
But mostly the neithers and boths in this world
Don’t tell me it’s a transient, temporary tale
Or that I’m totally enamored with getting off the most followed trail
I’m taking back traumas and tense muscles and taunts
Until tentative trespassers give us what we want
A presence, a voice, and all human rights
It shouldn’t be a privilege to feel safe at night
Don’t tiptoe around troubles, just stand with us here
Add a voice until we trumpet our triumphs and cheers
Take my hand, hear my voice
Listen, learn something new
Because LGBT has a cross and
Cross my heart
I’m with you
Leelah, I don’t usually write poems for people I never knew
I don’t usually write poems on the big issues, the things I haven’t studied, and the things I’m new to learning about
I can’t claim to know anything about you
In the seventeen years you were on this Earth, I had never heard your name
And even if I ever met you, there’s a good chance I still wouldn’t know your real name
That I would be introduced to you as Joshua and I wouldn’t have thought twice
Leelah, I haven’t seen much of you and I’ll never get the chance to
To me, you are one selfie in a cream colored dress captioned with a suicide note that I wish no one had ever had to read
The only words of yours I’ll ever know are the last ones you chose to give to the world
And any other information I could find will only tell me where the world stands on the events that lead to your death
I know that your parents bound you too tightly in blue baby blankets that you wanted to bleach white and toss in with the red laundry until it matched the assignment you wish you had from the beginning
I know that isolation and abuse took its toll on your health until your self-prescribed remedies left you standing on Interstate 71 at 2:20 on a Sunday morning
I know that more journalists misgender you than get it right but people are finding the best links they can to tell the world who you are
And they’re sharing your words on all forms of social media
Leelah, you’ve sparked a movement
You said that you wanted your death to mean something, and darling, it has
Progress shouldn’t have to come exclusively from tragedy
But it often does and you deserve to know that your tragedy is leading an advancement
The words that never should have had to have been written in the first place, at least are being read across the world
”The only way I will rest in peace is if one day transgender people aren’t treated the way I was, they’re treated like humans, with valid feelings and human rights”
Leelah, in a google search bar your name is the first result after just three letters
And even when someone types in Joshua Alcorn the whole first page of results is titles that name and gender you properly
Leelah, they’re getting better
They’re finding the breaking points in their ignorance and instead of supergluing the cracks they’re chipping them apart to find the roots of the weakened foundation
Things aren’t what they should be, but skipping stones are becoming stepping stones and hopefully the waters will hold enough of them to support the feet that are trying for the first time to cross over
And hopefully next time there won’t be blood in the water because
Leelah, you deserved so much better than the life you were given
But you’ve given life to new voices and they’re remembering your name and they’re saying
Leelah, we stand by the same things you believed in and now we’re taking your words to the streets
And you are loved and you are missed, but right now it’s important that you are known
And you are known as
Leelah
And you will not be forgotten
 Nov 2014 Meghan O'Neill
Sky
This morning, a little girl sat with me on the bus with her eleven year old eyes, creased
Her hair was not the color of the sun, it was the color of wheat, thrown into a quick ponytail

She did not smell lovely, as a girl should
She smelled stale of:
Morning breath, alcohol, old clothes

And I couldn't help but to think what her mother and father did as she got ready for school today

I remembered at five I had no father to help me dress and my mother was at work for too many hours to count and my babysitter danced on a pole at midnight
She did not want to wake in the mornings

I remembered at seven I had no father to help me dress and my mother was at work for too many hours to count and my babysitter put her fingers in holes they didn't belong
She did not pay for it

I remembered at eight I had no father to help me dress and my mother was sad for too many hours to count and I had no babysitter, as I had no house

I remembered that summer I had a father to help me dress and my mother was always at home and I had no babysitter because I had a mother and father

I remembered at fifteen I didn't need a father to help me dress nor a mother all I needed was drugs and alcohol and the courage to take my own life, and I tried

I remembered at almost seventeen I didn't need a father to help me dress nor a mother, what I needed was saving
And they tried like hell, but inevitably I am a lost cause

Oh god, I hope like hell her mother and father were just running a bit late this morning
Woah I'm tired. What is this
“We” are becoming a game

A game of Hide my feelings
And Seek your touch

A game of Memory
While you memorize my curves
I memorize the curves of your smile

A game of ring around the truth
and let the thought of being together fall right down
my cheek as I cry from your words of
Guess Who doesn't love you

“We” have become that Puzzle
With the pieces that all look the same
And I’m not sure if our pieces fit together

One of those puzzles with the pieces that look like they’ll fit
But you won’t know for sure till you finish
But you aren’t sure you want to try hard enough to find out

A game where you Chute me that look
And I start to climb the Ladder
Even though I know I’m gonna have to slide back down eventually

A game where I constantly think about the sweet Candy that is you
and Land right back into reality
Knowing you’ll never get the Clue
And I’ll be the one who is Sorry
Even though I should have known you were Trouble all along

I’m starting to learn that this is Life
And the War with myself isn’t worth it
It isn’t worth
feeling like the Paper
While you are the Scissors
when really we are both stuck under this Rock

We just keep calling for Red Rover
to send sanity right over our way
so we can finally figure out the Monopoly of
Forged seduction

I’ll just continue to Go Fishing for the words
to unlock our mystery
so we can finally Connect
our Four arms together

‘We” are becoming a game
Where we are constantly Tagging
each other to be the one to say It first

A game where feelings are Cooties
and we have to Circle our brains
to find the Spot
Where we find out if we even have a Shot

You’ll just keep making me Tick
While I try to find a way
to Tack a label
Toe how I feel

Until I realise this is just Child's Play
Despite people constantly explainings music theory
I’ve never quite grasped the concept
Of different keys.
Because to me
Something would feel sharp and
Fall flat but
Be all too natural to you

And I had difficulty trying to articulate what I meant to say
Because we had such an interesting dynamic
And dissonance is positive when done correctly,
Right?

Constantly, you played chords on my heart strings
Like the threads wound tightly against the pegs on your guitar.
Beautifully
But never gently
Rarely slow
With some fascinating sort of
Passion
But not always the kind that I understood

And despite believing that your interest was genuine
I sometimes wondered if you got as much of a rush from
Holding the curves of that wooden body close to you
As you did from thriving on the attention that you got
When people saw that you had the skill
To manipulate something ordinary into something unique.


And I’ll admit
It got into my head
And caused me to fret

Refraining from over-analysis
Has never been my forte.
But somehow we always managed to bridge the gap
That our differences created
And accented the qualities that really made us harmonious.

Hoping you would not hesitate to
Pick me and
Bend me and
Guard me and
Let the notes ring loud and frenzied and
Place your hands
Along my neck
To let me be the fine-tuned
Instrument
Of your affection.

With lungs andante
And a heartbeat accelerando
I’d leave it up to you to conduct
A tempo.
While the melody lead us
In an entanglement of musical phrases and lyrical nonsense
That all came together.

I suppose.

But don’t ask me why,
I never understood music theory
I just know what I like to hear.
An old poem reworded to be past tense
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