Growing, Feeling, Dreaming.
These are activities I used to do.
Growing up, Feeling emotions, Dreaming of the future.
Before I discovered I was gay.

My experience has growth, growing towards the sun,
Growing towards a box, that I could fit in.
Feeling feelings and shutting them away.
I can’t be gay.

I used to dream of great things,
Changing the world and helping people out,
But I am riddled with self-hatred,
And can’t escape, for I am a product of pressured hate.

I feel like a sunflower, Growing in the summer.
I am admired from up close but not given another look when moved on.
Sometimes I feel as though I have come to my fall,
To rid my seeds and go to sleep.

Withstand the pressure or crumble to a system,
A system of unvalued lives,
Open your eyes and see the truth,
Your gay friends are on the news.
Not as heroes or as villains but,
As stereotypes and hidden additions.

I don’t see myself, I do not see in third person,
I breathe and feel and exist as I am,
Not as a side character and not as an omission,
I am myself, and that is the mission.

the princess locked herself away
behind tall walls of grey
so no one could see her die inside
and she can hide behind her pride

the dashing rogue saw these walls
she wanted to explore its halls
she wanted to see every inch
and find out why she's so quick to flinch

the rogue found an ornate gate
but saw the lock and had to wait
but she's impatient to see her free
so she set out to find the key

she travelled far and wide
to where the dragon resides
at the top of the highest mountains
surrounded by deadly lava fountains

the golden key dangled from its neck
beneath wicked teeth that kept you in check
but the rogue devised a cunning plan
to get the key as quick as she can

with clever words, she tricked the dragon
to give the key without any nagging
so back down the mountain, she walked
to match the key with the lock.

soft as morning light,
fingers travel for miles
across earths of skin

I grew up with God in the wind,
and didn't fit in with Christian friends.
They told me stories and begged me to repent.
Though doubtful, my anxiety sparked at the thought of sin.

I was once on a playdate and the mother told me.
She disowned her best friend when she confessed she was a lesbian.
She told me she could only take her back if she came to her senses.
It made me feel sad and sick, with little sympathy for the protagonist.

I was once told by a good friend that no one is bisexual, of course they're just confused.
I knew who I was but I didn't say anything in rebuttal.
I just nodded my head and took the bruise.

Once after jokingly seeing my boyfriend and another male friend hold hands, my mother told me "how dare those ******* disrespect you like that."
It was a moment that shattered glass and left scars.
I managed an apology after too much effort.

My stepfather once told me that gender fluidity was a confused phase, and a fad for attention.
Walls were put up and notes were taken.
Doors remained closed and silence  prevailed.

I am complicated.
I blend in to "normal"
I feel guilty at times and don't feel honest.

I undervalue, perhaps, the benefit of looping everyone in.
Or, perhaps, I'm just keeping the peace and heeding warning signals.

I can say for certain, it's not a fad nor phase.
I've always been who I am, I just had to grow up in order to phrase it.

Clover honey waves just passing the ears,
Irises like a stone pine’s bark,
Full, peach, lips
And rose beige skin.

Slender, just enough to see the lines of his muscles.
And a body bare of hair, unlike the animal.

He shifts and sways his way wherever he pleases.
He doesn’t fret.

Soft-spoken with a voice like lilies, he beams at whomever he talks to.
The rising sun to a fleeting night.