my name is not Lexie
it's Levi

my name is not issue
it's the change

my name is not self harm
it's recovery

my name is not mistake
it's purpose

my name isn't weird
it's special

my name isn't he/she
it's transgender

my name is Levi, and that will never change.

i used to think myself immortal.

see, i grew up spanish next to english
and the only nouns left genderless
were ones i didn't know to say.

so i'd look at empty sky
(not el cielo, not with nothing to hold)
and tell my friends it was me up there.

you: imagine the god-named planetas.
i was the backdrop to their orbits,
not bound to el fondo, but more than words.

now i know el abismo is beyond me
but the only genderless thing i knew
was so deep i'd drown just looking.

now i know the word agender
but remember:

before i was this
i was infinite.

We are
one but we are
not. You reflect the
image that I project,
yet we are not the
same. We are
pens
that
are limited, and are taught
to perpetuate stories only with blank
papers; stars that are gifted with
ethereal shine, but upon its
acceptance, the clouds
inevitably create
a demarcation.
It screams a rule
that stars may only fall for
wishes, and not to gift their innate
shine to another star. The sun screams
that two ends of polychromatic rainbows
may not meet in order to preserve the treasures.
But I stand before you, a similar image of you. We
are unfathomable depths but with divergent trenches.
Everyday we hear the
sun scream, and I say
do not fear its flare.
For in love we are
free, and in love
we are both
limitless.
We are
free.

there is a man in my dreams.
he is tall
with hair like gold,
and his eyes that are the colour of a raging ocean
and when i touch his face
it reminds me of worn down sandpaper
- a tad prickily, but it is home.
with broad shoulders that make him look like he knows exactly where he's going
he just grins like he knows the secrets to the universe.
i hope one day im as confident and comfortable in the universe as he is.

The tears streamed from your eyes
Like salty rivers on a quest;
They poured to the ground,
As your secret you confessed.

Your mother held her breath,
Stared at you with kindling, rampant rage;
"You are not a ******* boy,
This is just a phase."

She hides you from me,
Separating us from the intimacy that held us together;
Prevents us from experiencing our love in person,
It is so tender.

The days are passing,
You are hurting inside;
She insults you, blames you,
For being a girl who lies.

The knife inches toward you throat,
Your fingers aching to seal your fate;
But baby, look toward me,
It is never too late.

Hold onto this passion as if it
Is the very water to quench your thirst;
The very food to satiate your appetite,
Fulfill your mirth.

Boy of mine,
Your heart is pure.
Eventually you can slam
In her face the door.

Just hold on,
Take deep breaths;
Self-harm isn't a solution,
Neither is death.

My type,
is unavailable....