Let's remember Nex Benedict as they were. They shouldn't have died at that young of an age.
Let's remember the 33 transgender and gender nonconforming people  who died this year because of hate crimes.
Let's remember there is more to humanity than just cruelty.
Let's remember there is more to life than the harshness of life.
I know I say this while hiding my gender identity but there is boldness in silence.
Let's remember anyone of us in the LGBTQ community would have accepted Nex Benedict as one of us because they were one of us.
So live boldly! This isn't about me, this is about remembering the dead. The dead deserve to be remembered.

She is the medicine
Take her
And call your wife
In the morning

your body is your temple.
instead of punishing it for not being what you want it to be,
thank it for being the home you go to every night.

In the floodgates
                of forever
                    I see you standing,
                 arms out, so ready
    the multiple layers
of silky delicious
       that we have created
                           until now
     swirling about us,
a storm of veils
beckoning like sea waifs
     and I am opening up
like never before
       my heart practically
                 out of my chest
                               until it is
                       flying forth,
                        a mythical
             winged creature,
prehistoric birdling
and you,
      with  your strong arms
your third eyelight
turned on
              catch it
                          hold it
                   nuzzle it
            until the rest of me
can reach you
   bursting forward
        through swathes
           of time
           turbulence a mere
                            snippet
and we meld
and merge like oceans
     hearts lit up
in electrical surge
time and place not existing
We are the sea.
We are the Earth.
We are the desert velvet
We are the wonder
in the hallways
of our arteries
We are the bloodflow
                 heartflow
of the universe within us
We reign the
ever changing existence
that keeps us whole
allowing room to breathe
to bloom in mystical
                   wild gardens
                yet binding
through realms
of our light's
endless expansion
our souls embracing
as we dream future visions
upon our tongues
and as I gaze upon you
our eyes a magnet
you ignite my glow,
the king of my citadel
festooned with
             flowerbuds
for your
        queen

Awake again, another day
Coffee as brown as her eyes meet me from
The mug she made me.
The heater keeps the cold away
But not as well as her breath
Or her skin against mine,
The shower head begins to spray
Steaming water that I ever wish were
Her fingers, streaming down my back.
Our frustrated feelings start to fray
As we play witness to others begin life together
As we've worked so hard to achieve.
But I will be the ceramic and not the clay,
Steadfast and unyielding until mine is mine
And hers is hers because by god --

Awake I will be in the suns first rays,
Wrapped in arms and light and soft brown hair
And eyes like coffee that will beg me back to bed.

She wasn't his world.  

She built it for him.
She poured in sunlight with her smile.
His nighttime came when she was sad.
The glint in her eyes made his stars.  
Her fingers played the tune he hummed.
Her feet walked on every surface that he would come to call home.  
She made it all for him.

And wanted nothing in return.

But sometimes,  as a small gift,

He would borrow a little bit of the sky and put it back in her eyes.
So that they would be blue again.
So that the glint would be brighter than ever once more.
He did all this for her.

Even though she never once asked for it.