I drew the word "pride"
But it's the Pan flag.
Underneath it it's the same
But it's a trans flag
I couldn't draw a demiromantic and/or a genderflux flag with chalk.
Now we wait for my parents to see

Oh Peter;
I swore I would never grow up - fly to Neverland with you;
Now I'm 17;
I wish I kept my promise;

Oh Peter;
Children don't hate themselves as much as I;
Children don't get excited to drift off to sleep;
Children don't wonder whether tomorrow is their last;

Oh Peter;
Can you tell me when it all went wrong - when I stopped believing;
Perhaps Captain Hook was behind it;
I miss you, Peter;

I am Pansexual
No, that does not mean i am romantically or sexually attracted to kitchenware.
It means, simply, that:
I like boys
I like girls
I like everything other and in between.
I will support you and love you
No matter what you want to express yourself as.
You do you.
You are amazing.
Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

(...or, “to Mother”)

When I removed my mask of being straight,

She removed her mask of motherly love.

How could she, seeing 17 year old me, claim to have had no clue?

How could I, seeing 50 year old her, been so intentionally ignorant?

Poet dances song in quietude
our dreams throng
down huckleberry roads

Unscripted spoken motions
Mosaic heart emotes

Hope

As he composed
Faces glow so
connect the dots
those consumed disposed

Knowing we're not broken
But in the art we form
as one whole - our garden grows...

Poet paints love with understated eloquence
visions of war never-was

with every tear an ocean
with every dream a peace

all seedling springs.

Poet grants wish
Dances in the street
laughter as he weeps

beauty is what we all seek
to lovingly keep

evergreen

and free.

Sometimes I want to take her up in my arms
and feel like a man,
because I'm a lot bigger than her
and my hands dwarf hers,
but we both know I can't.

My heart rises up to my throat
when I think of her
and it swells from the love I hold so dear
and it breaks when I remember that I can't be close to her.

I'm not close enough to stroke her knotted hair,
and I'm not close enough to make sure nobody hurts her.
She can protect herself sometimes, and I know she isn't hurt as Much as I am angry when she is insulted.

Their jokes about me loving her hardly seem like jokes now,
and I might just be a bit high on pain or hunger or maybe it's just the lonely hurt,
but I want to hold her
and love her,
but I have to know that it isn't possible.
A love between us is impossible,
however much I wish I could be a man to her, for her, just to simply be
for her.