You said:

I love you so much.  Your eyes make mine want to well up with happiness  And  Your voice makes me want to create   Your body is a tool and a weapon and full of glorious purpose  And I love watching you  Do everyday things  Like put on glasses  Or brush your teeth   You're a comfort to me, A gateway to wisdom and ideas I've never encountered before   And I love you  So so so so so so much   So **** anyone  Who can't understand what that means to us   (cleaning out your inbox after the filth)

Okay, I miss you. I miss you a lot and you won't return my calls or anything, you just vanished one day, disappeared. You've finally gotten your dream, you'd always wanted to be good at not existing in the face of tragedy. You tell yourself through tumblr posts and reblogged poems that you're strong, but the reality is that your words wound more than they can touch.

You're a facsimile, a fraud, my friend. But the thing is, you're so **** beautiful when you're doing it that it's almost forgiveable. That's why, when I look into the photographs of you I wasn't supposed to see, I soften at the sight of your creases as you smile, and the nape of your neck where I used to rest, and I think-

Someday this woman is going to belong to someone else, if you can say a person belongs to anyone-

And, secondly-

That I hope she will carry my memory in her bones as far as she travels.

If I look closer at your smile, it doesn't seem real.

I've saved the pictures, I want to know if you did too. I found an old one of you in my favorite hat, the one I used to work out in, feel strong in, explore with you in. Now it makes me think of you.

I hate that you took that from me.

Their healthy trans-ness
in the face of my own desolate relationship
made me sad

and thorny

but so, so happy for them
and their ability to thrive

I've been using my computer's HDMI chord to connect to a T.V. in order to game, but I've never written poetry on it.

The magnification of the words and the fluidity of the transfer from keyboard to screen is magnificent.

It's giving a kind of otherworldly, surreal feeling to the pieces I'm creating.

I'm


Okay


(At pretending I'm still living)

I am slowly desensitizing

Myself to the word

"Babe"

We were born
Out of chaos
Wind and rain shaped us

I held you for the first time
After a fight with a woman, I
Needed you to know how impossible you were
To do without

We died out
In the chaos
The winds that chastised us
Whisked you away from me

Disclaimer:

You're sexting a poet

sometimes i still imagine the snowy streets
and the quiet, dark calmness which only winter brings
and the pulsing excitement that i was headed to see you
the radio quietly humming and my mind running like crazy
a million thoughts surrounded by you

but now all of these memories are just purely lonely
and i hate winter and the snowy streets and the quiet darkness which is now so unnerving
because i can't change anything and winter now is only colder
as cold as you are now, frozen fragments inside of my head
i walk around to rid myself of them
yet you remain, you remain
you remain dead

i hate winter
because winter is you
and winter was us