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H A Vitatoe Jun 12
The picture
that you drew
You said
give to him
I kept it
I'm the one
who seeked you
Not him
Binding us
My friend
From The Collection "A Work Of Art"
Mikey Barnes Jun 8
I’ve got that new binder kinda feeling
That fresh out of the packet, still sorta smells like plastic kinda feeling
That stuck with my arms out trying to pull it all the way down kinda feeling
That are you sure it makes a difference? can you really see my **** less? kinda feeling
That posing side on in the mirror, new profile picture - hey look at me! I’m as flat as can be! kinda feeling
That finally belonging in my own skin kinda feeling
That blowing my reflection a kiss instead of pretending I don’t exist kinda feeling
That sun smiling out from behind a cloud kinda feeling
That five years down the line, I won’t even need to bind kinda feeling
That imagining a future with myself in it no longer feels like pushing my own limits kinda feeling
That skinny boy
too much noise
too-big shirt
stretched skin
wide smile
talks a mile a minute
can you tell there’s something different?
it’s my brand new binder!
kinda feeling
i can't believe i even have to say this but binding and fgm are in NO WAY the same, at all. binding has saved me, has given me confidence, is what allows me to leave the house every day. it is a choice that i make, and it is one that i don't ever regret.
Kaiden A Ward May 28
The deepest depths of our lungs
have been deprived of oxygen
for so long
that we cannot remember what is like
to breathe,
deeply and unhindered by
this binder
as the constriction threatens to
collapse the cavity of our chest.

Willingly, we trade our breath
for the exquisite, piercing pain
that we quickly come to associate with
peace of mind
and freedom
because it means the reflection of our silhouette
finally matches the physique our
dysphoria has been telling us
we should have had
our whole lives.

In time, this addiction festers and
we bind longer and more often as
our bodies grow weaker and
our minds more chaotic until,
despite the destruction,
we cannot bear to take them off
and face the truth
written in our curves.

The pain is at one with us now.
We endure, if only to be able to
run our hands longingly down
our flattened chests
as we wait, hoping that,
one day,
we will finally be able to learn
what it is like to
breathe again.
My first attempt to capture what it is like to bind and my personal experience and thoughts on binding. Everyone's story is different.
Desire Dec 2018
P   I    E    C    E    S . . .
Six-word poetry challenge for the seasons.
David Abraham Nov 2018
A black snake coiled itself around him last night,
until it rolled him 'round and 'round with his legs kicking
and he nodded off into sleep with his eyes teary and his ribs aching from the fight.
The great serpent eased up around him,
but once more in the day and well into the next night,
it constricted his bones to the point of breaking,
and through the lies and false promises of the reptile
he cried and cursed his life, his birth, his body.
2313 November 19 2018
David Abraham Oct 2018
Vibrant colors flood through the engravings in my skeleton,
the bright lights shining through my skin,
along every nerve as they illuminate themselves to make known their pain.
What a useless light show,
that nobody asked for,
telling everybody in vain
that it wants to be released.
0346 October 21, 2018

guess what,, binding dangerously,,, hurts
Isaac Aug 2018
if you could skip to the day
your dreams are finally true
would you be glad and say
i finally made it through
you would not say that
because you would know
you didn't have to combat
any struggles or undergo
the challenges that came
they connect you with mankind
you would quickly feel the shame
of missing the joy that can bind
your heart with other hearts
our battles join us as one
missing out on those parts
no great memories would be won
you would know you are a fake
and victory would lose its meaning
realizing skipping was a mistake
not as wonderful as it was seeming
be content living day by day
moments are sweeter than you realize
scooting passed time's natural way
is not as good as you may idealize
Written 23 August 2018
Glory May 2018
Creatures assuming
forever repeating
hating spontaneity
adoring originality
we can not be
without already being
we can not love
without having loved
a little confusing
a lot troubling
wondrous silence
and full obedience
I don't usually do notes but I feel that people might interpret this wrong. I am describing the way my life is now and how I view the ******* of expectations that are on my life. I find it difficult to live.
matthew Apr 2018
forty-eight hours is a long time to wear a binder,
and my ribs are screaming for mercy,
for a break from the compression and lack of mobility.
but it's not that easy.

sometimes i'd rather face the pain,
than face the fact that i am female.
these weights on my chest,
drag me to the ground.
i break down.

i feel locked in my body,
and all i want to do is break free.
nobody should feel the need to shower in the dark,
because the reality of their body is too much for them.
it shouldn't be this way

and i know i shouldn't compare myself to people,
but i cannot stop thinking,
'what if i were cis'.
i think of how much easier everything would be.
i wouldn't have to worry over how long i've been wearing my binder,
or if i pass,

i wouldn't have to worry about turning eighteen,
knowing i will be homeless.
but instead, my mother would celebrate her baby,
becoming a "legal adult."

forty-eight hours wouldn't be a worrying statement,
just another frame of time,
it wouldn't reflect on my self-care routines,
or lack thereof

it'd just be forty-eight hours.
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