I need the spend my mourning
In bed
My head is throbbing
A pain that I can’t wave  away
My eyes are  swollen,
My vision a blur
All I  see is Red

Yes.  Today I will spend my mourning
in bed.
Everything’s  done
That needed to be complete
From the  viewing  to mass
To drinks down the street.

I came home on the plane
Without her waiting for my call.
That triggered my emotional
A plane flight.
Crashed my soul

I will spend mourning in bed.
It can’t last long
There’s work to do
But when it’s your mom
Mournng in bed, at least for  a day.
Is ok
Mom wouldn’t allow  more

Tomorrow I will wake
Act as if she is on vacation
Playing the slots
Getting in a game of bingo or two-

Yes.  Yes
Tomorrow that’s what I’ll do.

Today: I will spend Mourning in bed.
She swore

We made a pact
Whenever she would leave
This world
I would feel her
She had my back.

I can’t feel her.
My heart is broke

I knew the time was coming
I am logical that way
I said all the right words
All the hugs, “love-yous” and smiling tears
Were gold.

I can’t feel her.

Everyone says
When someone you love dies
You will feel them.
I believed
what I was told.

She gone
And the best of me: died.

I can’t feel her

Not in a song, not in the toasts we made to her
Now as I  return to the world.
I am no longer her little girl

I can’t feel her
So, my heart is on standby
Cause I can’t handle
If this is the last goodbye

I can’t feel her.
I walked a mile in Mother’s shoes,
Before turning around.
I realized everything I’d done,
And crumpled to the ground.

For all my tears she wiped away,
She cried a hundred more.
I heard her praying late one night,
For all God had in store.

I lived a live of pleasure.
She lived a life of pain.
She always wore a smile,
Though for all she lost I gained.

And although I’m still changing,
And growing everyday,
Her simple midnight whispers,
Have always stayed the same.
Cayden 4d
but mom you weren’t there December 14, 2016.  you weren’t there when I sat in my teacher’s room, sobbing and wondering why I had to be the one to go through this.  wondering why God was punishing me.  you weren’t there when I sat in that crowded, suffocating room mumbling through tears about how I didn’t know if you would accept me- or if my friends would accept me- or if I would ever find true love.

but mom you weren’t there for my first heartbreak.  you weren’t there when the girl i fell for so hard told me she didn’t feel the same way. you weren’t there when i had to look into her ocean blue eyes and hear those dreadful words of rejection.  you weren’t there for the night full of drinking- 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 no 8 beverages to wash away the pain.  you weren’t there the day after, when I woke up hung over and feeling like the world had betrayed me.  like i had been cursed by a plague so evil, no one could survive it. you weren’t even there the following night when I cried myself to sleep, or the following months when all I wanted to do was empty the bottle of liquor under the cabinet because why did I have to be gay? why couldn’t i be like the other girls?  why did i keep getting tricked into believing i could be happy?  you weren’t there during that time of depression and anxiety, when the only thing that could relieve my anger and sadness were red lines on the side of my hip.  

but mom you weren’t there when i got my first boyfriend.  yes, the first boy i ever let take off my clothes and try to kiss away the pain and sin.  you weren’t there when i had to fake a smile at parties and hold onto his arm.  when i had to kiss him and pretend like the pain i felt wasn’t just me dying inside.  you weren’t there when all i felt like i could do was hide my identity, because family and friends were more important than becoming who I was, right?

but mom you weren’t there when I first came out as transgender.  you weren’t there when i went to my friends house crying and wondering again, why this had to be me. wondering why i couldn’t be like the others girls. why my life had to unfold in this gruesome pattern. why i couldn’t feel comfortable in my body, in my home.  why i was going to have to struggle with years of dysphoria and depression.  you weren’t there when we made a “pros and cons” list, debating if the potential murder rate of 1/12 and ridicule from peers would be worth it.  you weren’t there when i craved that sharp point on my skin and the burning of alcohol that wiped away the drips of maroon blood.

but mom you were there when I sent you and dad a letter announcing my decision to transition.  you were there through those dreadful months when i heard you crying in the bathroom and not understanding why YOUR family had to go through this.  but more importantly mom you were there— no you were the reason— that i sat on the floor of my shower sobbing, wishing I could disappear. you were there for all of that, but quite frankly, i wish you hadn’t been.
Mom, do you remember
When dad used to get angry on me
I used to hide beside you
And you used to absorb all his anger by yourself
Mae 7d
The kettle sings
she dances towards me

she pours mine
and then her own

honey drips,
with hints of mint

spoons clank
I stir too fast
she breaks her biscotti
and gives me half

We cheers porcelin rims
she smiles at me
our day begins
Regan Jun 11
Thank you mom,
For putting up with me
All these years.
Natalie 4d
swelting sun making me sweat
sleeveless shirts are a staple in my closet
skimpy skirts stick closely to my body

urban adventures with underrated friends
unique experiences that are unforgettable
unhappy mother as I arrive home at unfit hours

mainly mall shopping with money i don't have
making my own way, i hate having a job
marking myself down for college courses

muffintops are not part of my bikini body
mornings are the only time it's not blazing hot
math is not in my vocabulary

eating excellent watermelon
easily drifting off to sleep
excited for this evening's events

resting 'round the clock
running from responsibility
rules aren't referring to me
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