4 letters.
one word.
a lifelong impact.
we’ve heard this poem before,
but for some reason we all have to write it
because it binds us to a person for all of time.
it shows my connection to you
from the moment we met
until death do we part.
because of a 4 letter word.
you came into my life and showed me emotions I had never felt before,
feelings I had never even heard of.
did you know that you were doing that to me?
making me think of you every single day
for the past 3 years?
there isn’t a moment that passes where I don’t think of you and that 4 letter word.
I came to you as a babe,
shiny and new and unused.
but now that you found me,
I’m broken in, softer, a little more pliable.
but I can’t be with anyone without thinking of you.
maybe thats a good thing.
see that 4 letter word messed me up a little bit,
handcuffing me to your wrist.
maybe that’s why I can’t hold someone’s hand without feeling your rough palm against mine.
I was drunk in that 4 letter word,
expecting to sober up the next morning.
but now I’m wasted, smashed, and completely ****** up.
all because of a little 4 letter word that you brought into my vocabulary.
a 4 letter word that’s anything but temporary.
a 4 letter word that left me in solitary.
a 4 letter word that threw me into a world that could only possibly be imaginary.
a 4 letter word that goes down in my lifetime’s obituary.
a 4 letter word that you copy and pasted into my personal dictionary.
a 4 letter word with meaning tied to it that is so intense, its scary.
4 letters.
one word.
a lifelong impact.
****.

She was like your first breath of air after coming up from underwater, and now I'm drowning.

my heart
will never be as heavy as the ones of the
children who are forced to learn the anatomy of a gun
in two seconds
flat. it doesn't matter if you believe in
god. god finds calm in
violence, god doesn't come
here, to the schools that are named after presidents and
townspeople who've done good
deeds, places
that were supposed to be
safe.

my heart
will never be as heavy as the ones of the
parents who sent their kids to
school in dresses and ironed
khakis and two little
pigtails and got them back in
body bags. there are no
flags here. no Purple Hearts
for the kids who couldn't wait long enough to find
god.

I knew she planned on staying.
When she unpacked her belongings.
Mia told me she wasn't playing.
This time, she would cause the falling.

She woke me up the first night,
After he ran away.
Mia's chapped lips whispered our old times,
She reminded me of tooth decay.

For the next few days, Mia was my shadow.
Her doe-eyes trailed my every course.
Waiting patiently for me to plateau,
Before attacking without remorse.

Mia told me she was mending my cuts,
My battered heart, and my sliced legs.
She was making me whole with every hiccup.
He may have left, but she was here to stay.

We held hands throughout the store.
She helped me buy my favorite treats.
Binging together before locking the door.
Purging never tasted so sweet.

Mia held my hair and my pink tongue.
Her fingernails made my throat bleed.
Convinced me secrecy made this fun.
Our kneeling prayers were a mystery.

She wiped my tears with her acidic hands,
And whispered how much she missed me.
Mia uttered how only she would understand
My longing and misery.

I am a guy.
Just a guy.
Not an "ummm...technically."
or "biologically female."
Not: "used to be a girl",
"Thinks she's a guy",
"Doesn't dress like a boy",
"What she got between her legs?",
"Wears makeup",
"Doesn't pass"-

Gender norms literally **** people.

Every "I'm sorry" is just a peeling paint job
over an intercity wall,
no one really wants to look at,
or fix,
or admit to.

This is not a problem I brought on myself.
My gender is not a problem,
You are the problem.

I'm not running from what's inside me anymore,
I know what's inside me,
I've made peace with what's inside me
It's the same old, same old,
with a new set of words
you ******* can't wrap your tongues around.

I don't care if you slipped up,
Fix it.
I don't care if you didn't know I was a boy,
Fix it.
I don't care about your cis guilt, cis excuses, or cis ignorance
Fix it.

Because you don't know the age limit
not to be Emily anymore.
The hundreds of dollars it costs.
Every: "Hello Ladies",
every "Sorry Miss",
every "What can I do for you Ma'm",
every "You'll always be my niece-"
"My daughter",
"My girlfriend".

The cis questions,
cis answers,
cis stares,
cis disinterest in my ******* feelings.

I am not going to hold your hand
and politely explain to you that
I
AM
NOT
MY
GENITALS.
That's your job cis people.
Fix it.

Every misgendering is peeking through the veil
of how people really perceive you.
It's all just a game they play along
with in your presence.
Going along with a trance they think
you've put yourself in.

They don't really see you,
When all it takes is
changing a single word
in one ******* sentence.
That would be no inconvenience to them,
But makes or breaks the world to you.
Covering it up with a strained smile,
Lying that it's fine.

Is it even a question that over 70%
of trans people **** themselves,
as opposed to 1% of the general population.
It makes so much ******* sense to me.

Because trans means knowing
I will never be properly gendered by a stranger,
Unless I get a **** I don't ******* want.
Being trans is waking up everyday
with the guarantee you can not
use the bathrooms in public.

Can't be called a guy
Hearing: "Emmett? That's a weird girl's name."
Having people ignore you
When you're on the verge of tears
begging them not to see
your soft curves and small chest and skirt
as one big sign that says 'SHE'.

Then being told:
"It's not their fault,
people just don't know."
"You have to be more understanding,
more patient -
be nicer about it."

How 'bout applying that to yourself?
Don't tell me I have to be kinder
about being denied my identity everyday.
Don't tell me to shut up about a system
so ingrained in my brain
I still misgender myself.

It's gaslighting,
A society denying reality
And telling us we are the confused ones.
The crazy ones.
For veering outside these neat little boxes
ahem, cages
of made up rules
they've tried to lock us into.

The consequences are absolutely deadly.
Is it any question
That people bleed themselves dry
Get drunk, get high
just to escape it all?

Then get thrown into a 'health care system'
for attempted suicide,
get misgendered by the nurses and doctors
who ignore why they're there in the first place.
Then denied hormones for their
'mental instability'.

We are thrown into a world of glass ceilings
and imaginary borders
with all too real consequences.

Make no mistake,
We are not dangers to ourselves.
You absolutely put us here.

Blame it on whatever generation or
individual you want,
but we are all participating in cisnormativity
if you are not constantly unlearning.

If you equate genitals with gender,
Ask what the baby's going to be -
As if it ******* matters -
Don't think to ask pronouns and get it wrong,
See every character, every face on TV
that doesn't look like ours,
have everything catered
to the way you turned out to be,

That's privilege is our danger.
The gaps in judgement
and consideration for our situations
is where we live
and our destined to fall.

Because when someone hits you with a car
It doesn't matter of they didn't see  you,
didn't mean to,
have never done it before,
are the nicest person in the world -
They ****** up.
And it still hurts.

Sure, if they meant to
it would be worse,
But I'm through with this rhetoric
about intent.

Don't think this is too drastic a comparison,
Gender norms literally kills people.
Every mark of 'self-harm' on our arms
Is a scar society put there.
Every trans suicide is a ******.

The question isn't why
we are killing ourselves.
It's how the ****
are we still alive.

two litre bottles of wine,
one bottle of port
two high juices
and christmas crackers.

I think
it's a known fact
most people with an
eating disorder
end up pulling away
and secluding
and closing off.
spending more time alone
and less time with
others.

what I don't think
is everyone knows
why
we do this

we're hiding
hiding from you
whoever you are
you are against us.
you are trying
to force the enemy
into our hands
and onto our plates
and into our mouths.

the more time I spend
around you
the more you will
notice.
notice the signs
and the loss
and the anger
and everything else
we so cautiously hide

but for me
anyway
seclusion was hiding
hiding from the enemy
protecting my guard
my so fragile confidence
what I felt
and how I saw myself.
the more I was around others
and the food-
God the food-
the more I realized I needed it

but in my heart
I didn't want it
so i hid
from my enemy
from myself
and from you

I count the scars on my stomach
twelve
reasons why you left me
I made myself such a beautiful home out of you
do you remember when my home burnt down?
if I think hard enough I can still feel the way I did that day
the scars feel like open flesh I can feel the heat against my skin and nothing matters anymore
I turned to alcohol and razors because I don't know if I'm trying to numb the pain or end myself all together
people say "don't **** yourself over a boy because he will bring another girl to your funeral"
it's funny because that other girl was there the whole time
my life is like a walking funeral I keep seeing strangers crying everywhere
but maybe I'm the one who's actually crying
I look into the mirror and I don't even recognize myself
maybe I'm the stranger who keeps crying maybe that's why I hear hushed voices everywhere I turn
no one wants to talk to the sad girl, not even you
I keep seeing black everywhere i try to open my eyes and it's like I'm opening them into an endless black hole
there's black everywhere there's black around you too
maybe the black swallowed you and that's why you left me
or maybe there's more than twelve reason why you left me or was I simply just counting scars?

I see myself in her...

Back when I was made of ice,
Every slice and bite precise.
Grandmother's collarbones like
Soft skin cut by knives; birdlike.

I see myself in her...

The treadmill is her best friend.
Against herself, she contends,
Stuck in a world of pretend.
Her own skeleton: her friend.

I see myself in her...

Grandmother chilled to the bone.
Present summertime unknown.
She's carving her own tombstone,
Out of her sharp hipbones.

I see myself in her...

Was that how they looked at me?
With confusion and worry?
Was I the storm on the sea?
Or the dark depths underneath?