Spend the afternoon
Listening to the same songs
Coz you're feeling the way you are
And you can't seem to change yourself
Spend the afternoon
Listening to the same songs
And you find yourself thinking about
Those who think
You owe them your secrets
Those who think
You owe them your friendship
Listening to the same songs
Till you find yourself thinking about
Where they'll be in 10 years
Till you find yourself thinking about
Everything you never said to them
All the **** they threw in your face
And how badly you wanna throw it back
But that requires talking to them
So you shut up
Listening to the same songs
Till you've memorised the words,
"Does it cross your mind to be slightly sorry?"
And picture yourself screaming it
Screaming it to them
Like you owe them your secrets
Like you owe them a world
Why?
Age-old mistakes,
Before you knew that about him
Age-old mistakes
Before you knew it'd throw your life away
Before you knew he hated
"People like you"
But he doesn't know it yet,
He doesn't know it yet so
You find yourself thinking about
What you'd say
And how you'd say it
Maybe think of a song and dance
Maybe end it with a slap in the face
Maybe write him another ******* poem
When hell knows that was your biggest mistake
The first ******* time
And now you look at his face and think
HOW
How in the name of Hell
How in the name of every diety,
In or out of existance, could you
Befriend someone
Like that?

And you find yourself crashing
And burning
Like all of them did
And you think,
am I really better than them?
And sweetheart, then you pick yourself up
And you spend the afternoon
Listening to the same songs
Coz you're feeling the way you are
And the answer is
They got nothing on you
Use your anger,
Put yourself back together
However the hell you can
And keep going
Coz any bridges you burn on the way
You didn't need them
It killed you to keep the stupid things
Up for so **** long
And yeah, you can swear on
Everything you love
And hate
That the next time he shows his face
You'll beat it into the ground
Or write a song and ******* dance
When you know all you need to say
Is tell him how much he must hate you.
After all, look at what you are.
He hates people like you,
Right?

That word brings me back
to crouching behind my grandma’s couch
listening to my uncle yell at my cousin
that she couldn’t go to her friend’s uncles’ house
just because there were two of them
And I remember realizing
that my family might hurt me
if I ever came out to them

That word brings me back
to 2 am in bed
tears in my eyes
trying to convince myself
that my feelings were real
and hoping that they weren’t

That word brings me back
to walking through the hallway
and listening to other teens
spew hate and slurs
not knowing how much it hurt

That word brings me back
to sitting in a church I had never been in
listening to the pastor preach and yell
about how God hated
and I felt all my future plans of coming out
go down the drain

That word brings me back
to reading hundreds of news stories
about how people like me were killed
just because they were different
and wanted to love and exist
in a way that was different

That word brings me back
to hiding books I wanted to buy
from my parents view
just because the characters
were LGBTQ

That word brings me back
to so many different places
and all that they have in common
is that they cause me pain
so I’m sorry that I don’t think
that slurs can be reclaimed
especially when you still use it
in a derogatory way

when she was eight years old
she
asked her mother
have you seen the girl with
lashes like butterflies against sharp cheekbone branches?
a dandelion sprouting from sludge covered gutters and streets
streets, where you feel that bitter bland nothingness in your stomach

it feels buttery to stare at her:
see how snow outstretches arms and twirls tippy toes, envies her grace
see how balloon sized raindrops pop, target the freckles on her arm
see how her forehead crinkles when she concentrates, nothing more than a beacon
proclaiming she trickles with stars

when she was eight years old
her parent's violent protests slipped bruises under her skin like pennies in a coin slot
but they could not contain the celestial girl tucked under her ribcage.

she would still look at her like she was the breakfast sun on a saturday
whistling by the creak, catching glimpses of dresses from behind the legs of trees.
see how this is special love, sweet as strawberry fields under soft sun
they would never feel on their forked, sour tongues

One of these things is not like the other,
White, and white, and white and brown.
Who is this one? He can't be my brother.
He's different, let's all break him down.
One of these things is not like the other,
Straight, and straight, and straight and gay,
What a weird thought, she cant be a mother.
She's different, that there's easy prey.
One of these things is not like the other,
Happy, and happy, and happy and sad,
Everything strange to me, I must smother.
When they're just like me, they'll be glad.

I can't concentrate because of your words,
the ones I can't help but listen too.
You say people are selfish
for loving two kinds of people, not one.
You say that it's confusing,
to like both sexes the same.

Like we need you to understand,
like we need your permission to like who we want to like

I never asked you at all.

How can you hate when I have learned to love someone as much as I love you?
You were the one who taught me how to love in the first place.
Why does the gender of who fits my soul hurt yours so badly?
How can you look in my eyes and not find me?
I have found happiness and home in the arms of a woman and that makes me no longer your daughter.
You're ready to hand me over to the devil because I held something from you for so long.
I cannot change for you, I cannot be someone that you wish I was because the love I found is more important than the betray you have served me.
Thank you for everything but I will not tear myself apart to claim a spot in your heart.
You said your love was forever but forever doesn't exist.
I'll send you the wedding invitation, your spot will be saved.
Find it in your heart to love me again because you'll have my love forever,
i'm not so concerned with things that do not effect me.
Your home was once my home so i'll forever welcome you to mine.
a.n.F

In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the hard work of a former student who wanted her club to feel loved
Thrown away and ripped apart just like our confidence.
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the scars on a kid’s wrist
Torn open and ripped apart until all of their pride bleeds out of their skin
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the suicides of my brothers, sisters, and siblings that don’t identify as either
Their memories tossed out and joked over as if their breath never breathed life into their former friends
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see another GSA meeting poster, ripped off the wall and tossed away
Because even our papers don’t get respect in these hallways