Memories,
memories of the boxes of masculinity I crammed myself into,
for you,
they are memories,
memories which occupy not only my closet,
but also the lining of my heart,
if you had the faintest idea you’d understand,
those memories burn like embers,
she still doesn’t understand,
memory boxes which hold photos of me,
but are not me,
photos of a girl before testosterone occupied and took control of her body,
a girl before male hormones swam deep into her genetic code,
stripping away what was, a girl,
she still doesn’t understand,
those memories like knives,
cut deep into my skin.  
I can now say blood is a lot thicker than water,
but
that does not mean the scars on my body tell the happy tale of a family unit, they do not recite togetherness
they do not dance to the rhythm of unity
Instead
Instead these scars loosely translate to ‘please mom, help’,
she still doesn’t understand
I cut my chest open for you and bare myself to you
like an open cavity in hope that you’ll understand
that body was a home but I was merely a guest
don’t you get it?

At eight years old
I saw my mum grow down

At nine years old
I witnessed her in hospital

At ten years old
She forgot my birthday

At eleven
I could not comprehend or fathom
The words to express
How I feel

I watched my mum blossom
Only to wilt

I could fix a summer draught
With the tears I refuse to cry

At seventeen years old
I still cannot gather those words

I cannot construct
nor complete
that sentence
which fits you
perfectly

I think

My head like scattered hay bales
cannot trick itself to see you
my thoughts like a minefield
watch out, danger

I think

It was you
it is you

I am not your territory
My body is a landscape unconquerable

I think, I know

I’ll stain solar systems on your heart                                                            ­                            
So any boy who loves you has to conquer the galaxies           
Before he can say “that girls mine”

I’ll paint forests in  your iris                         
So any boy who loves you has to adventure into depths unknown Before he can say “I got lost in her eyes”

I’ll draw the sun on your lungs                                                   
and the sky on your back                                                                  ­   
to teach you that your body is a habitat                                           
not a hotel or an                                          
ecosystem of forgotten love

I’ll write novels on your thighs                                                      ­                  So any boy who loves you has to read between the lines                  Before he can say “I got between those legs”

I’ll sketch the stars on your feet                                                         
  So any boy who loves you can get lost in the milky way                  Before he can say “we go everywhere together”

I’ll sculpt the gods on your knees                                               
and clouds on your fingers
to remind you                                              
you can, you will                                                   
conquer great things

don’t be mistaken

i tried to keep the best parts of me

tucked away

for you

don’t be mistaken

you have galaxies at your fingertips

and rainforests at your feet

use my chalk outline as a boundary

dare to break it

sincerely

your absent father figure