While I likely have no rhythm
and tend to trip over my feet
that would hold back a dance.

While I have debilitating anxiety
that highlights others’ stares
I may still give it a chance.

No, see, the reason I won’t dance
has way more to do with my body
and the fact that I’m trans.

As I move through the world
I feel the weight of my identity
in both physical and mental distress.

Of course everyone has baggage
that doesn’t stop them from jiving
but not everyone has to carry it on their chest.

Dancing requires movement of my entire frame
but the person I see in my head
isn’t the one that light reflects.

How can I move without highlighting
the feminine figure my clothes conceal?

How can I jive
while hiding how my chest wiggles?

Can they tell?
Girl?
Guy?
What do they see?

The questions anchor my body to the ground
So I cannot move.
I cannot dance.

i know what it is like
when your fortress of solitude doesn't look like you
you get looked at but somebody else is being seen

i know because that happens to me too
i don't know whose body this is but i want
her to come back and make it convenient again
that isn't really it, definitely not it
i don't know what i want

i have to write this because i know if i said it
or read it out loud
it wouldn't be my voice that you hear
and that's the whole thing, isn't it?

i'm sorry i called you cute but i
wasn't talking about You i was
talking about your idea to kiss my nose
and the message you left on my refrigerator
that was you, in there, i see you
i know that you are in there and
i am in here too

I met with a man today,
although
not so much a man as….
a boyish adult.

He told me he liked me,
or perhaps “loved” would be
a better description.
I was showered with things that most
people would love to hear constantly:

Compliments.

I…..am not one of those people.

Now, that’s just the oversimplified version.
A more detailed explanation would go like this:
I met with a man today,
although
not so much a man as…
a boyish adult.

We went out for lunch,
and left there around five hours later.
For the first three,
we were doing all right.

Managing to have pleasant conversation
we even discussed our views on religion.
The last two hours
however
I am not sure how I managed to endure.

He told me he had "fallen in love with me",
and that every word I spoke had him falling deeper.

I explained that I have absolutely zero interest in any such things
(love, romance, all that jazz other people crave,
you know how it is)
I however, am not capable of feeling those sorts of attractions.
(don't want to be either)

As I spoke, he would reply by saying he was falling harder...
that I was pretty, handsome, cute, beautiful….etc.
Not a word of what I said went into his head.
And I knew it from the expression on his face,
that I was only being viewed as something to conquer.
To…..”fix”.

That made the compliments even worse.

*I hate compliments to begin with,
at least ones in regards to my appearance.
For me, they are one of the worst triggers
on my extremely long list.
So is being treated like I’m broken.

Not a girl nor a boy but still a person.