He says he has no secrets,
and I say I have tons,
He looks at me, his eyebrow raised,
and says,"Well let's hear one."

every day you cannot see me
but everyday I'm sitting here
and every day you sit beside me,
I feel as though I'm not really there.

I am the ghost, the invisible one,
the quiet kid that you all fear,
and just because you didn't see me
doesn't mean I wasn't there.

i used to check my windows
each night for UFOs,
convinced that aliens were
going to take me away.
i rejoiced for rainy nights,
because i knew that i
would be safe.
in the summer i longed
for the winter months
ahead, knowing snow would
keep them away.
would lie there sweating,
in the hot, humid night air,
my window locked tightly
to keep out the cool,
refreshing air-
and the monsters
i knew were
coming to get me.
i heard my mother's voice
below me,
and cautiously crept
down the staircase,
peeked out silently,
wanting to make sure
it was really her,
there,
not an alien
luring me to
the pits of an
Unidentified
Flying
Object
with her voice.
didn't go
outside alone,
wouldn't step away from
the safety of my home,
all because of a
'UFO sightings' book i read,
(a witness to the things
that fear does to your head).

I know lots of girls who cut
and ask them how they do it,
for it's such a brave feat to undertake
but they say there's nothing to it.

They're not afraid of blood loss,
or ripping apart their skin,
to have this be your only escape
what predicament could they be in?

So simply think of a time when you were bad
and about the pain you deserve,
and with each precise, thin, clean cut
your guilt goes away, unheard.

And then when ****** gaps close up
and the healing's coming far,
then you'll have some company to keep
for it's now and your scars.

Maybe you just don't understand,
I don't think you'll ever guess,
That I would rather curl up with a book
than play on your Nintendo DS.

You taunt me, your

perfection,

your tan skin glows like a god's.

your legs pale with a criss-crossing of

light brown hair,

a furry overcoat.

Your veiny forearms

and blotchy red face, pink with

acne and scars.

Chapped lips and eyebrows

forever quizzing what has been said,

artificial black hair gelled into

stiff shapes.

I could look at you

forever

but you still seem to

puzzle me.

my dear it's so quiet here without you
and oh my dear is it raining there too?

my dear while you're gone there's nothing here to save
so i think i'll visit the cemetery and name the unmarked graves.

I was doing it
A L L W R O N G

Because I thought about it,
I thought of
David Levithan
and his books
and I thought of
Alex Sanchez and
HIS books,
and
I thought about
Julia Anne Peters and
HER books.

And after I was done
thinking I realised
I was doing what
I hated.

Boy meets Boy isn't
a gay story.
It's a story about love.

Keeping You A Secret
is not a
lesbian love story,
it's just a love story.

Rainbow Boys Trilogy is not
a gay trilogy it's
a story about growing up and
getting along and
being in love and
being scared and
being stupid
and being brave
and being
a
friend.

I'm just thinking about them as
being about gayness because
they are gay,
even if you take away everything they
are love
stories
and
that's
it.

Love Is The Higher law--
about 9/11.

I Am J--
Being yourself--
a common theme.

Wide Awake--
finding courage and
finding yourself.

All these books,
and I've been looking at them
W R O N G.

I mean,
ten years ago
Boy Meets Boy
and
Keeping You A Secret
and
Rainbow Boys
was a
H U G E D E A L,

but now...
not
so much.

Maybe it's from living in a
household where gay
didn't exist,
Don't get me wrong,
I still want a book about
a character living in a
fantasy world or
utopia as a..
clone, maybe.

Or a dragon slayer.

I.

I held her hand and tried
to keep my voice from shaking as I
whispered to her my love.

She squeezed mine in return,
smiled that sweet smile of hers, and
said she felt the same.

She traced the jawline covered in fat
but for once I felt beautiful,
her hands were in my hair and her
lips were so so close to mine.

Then she kissed me in the dark
so no one could see.

II.

I told her who I was
and she loved me anyway.

Even though sometimes she had a
girlfriend, and other times just a capsule
of spiky-haired affection.

She loved me in my binder and in
my bra, with my ******* and my briefs,
she said it didn't matter.

But she kissed me in the dark
so her mother wouldn't see.

III.

We were both at a party,
but from different social classes.

We both wound up in a quiet room,
and I wanted him to notice me.

He started talking and I let my mind wander;
talking made it seem real, as if maybe, by some force
of the world, we could actually be together.

He smiled enough for me to know
it was because of me, and he let his hands
brush mine for a minute.

And in the dim glow from the pary,
our reflections came nearer and nearer on the
glass doors giving way to the milky snow outside,
and as snow fell gently down to earth
my heart melted from the joy I felt.

Then he kissed me in the dark
so his friends wouldn't see.

IV.

Yes I know you love me,
and you make it clear your care,
but when you hide me away from the people in your life
I feel as if I shouldn't be there.

Yes you've whispered happiness,
and assured me of my beauty,
but when you ignore me when you're out in public,
is it because you're ashamed of me?

When you wrote his name in wet cement
did you think your love would be permanent?

Did you write his name and, he yours,
when you slipped away from your daily chores?

When you come back, will he have your hand
will you still be helping each other to stand?

Or will it just be you alone someday,
and see those words, scratch them away?

Today I went to a
Red-Cross Baby-sitting course.
And we had to pair up with a
partner,
so the girl sitting next to me
turned to me to
practice
heimlich positioning.
So she stood up behind me and
put her arm across my chest and
we went through that position,
and then tried the other one,
where she put her arms around my stomach.
I could feel her breathing against my
ear, and her hair smelled
sweet and fresh and for the first time ever,
I wondered if my hair smelled like my
watermelon conditioner.
Then we switched,
and I put us through the
first position,
and I liked hugging her waist and
feeling her against me.
We sat down after that and learned about
CPR, and the instructor said we wouldn't be
practicing listening for breathing on
our partners,
and I let my mind wander to
a place where we could,
where she put her ear down
to my lips,
and her brown and blonde hair
fell over her ear and onto
my face.
I shook myself out of that
reverie,
and tried to pay attention,
but my eyes were drawn to her,
so I studied her instead.
An over-large grey sweatshirt,
with an icon of two green hockey sticks.
Blue denim shorts with
light blue lace on the ends,
black hightops,
and her socks were the same
hot pink as my own
shoelaces.
We practiced bandaging each other
up, so I wrapped
a strip of gauze around
her right forearm
and she did the same to my left.
And at the very end she rolled up her sleeves,
and I saw why she had me
wrap up her right arm.
Her left contained a
tile of faint scars,
criss-crossed like
spider-webs,
along her arm.

1.
My head itches with lice
that **** on my XY blood
and with each pierce of the scalp
anchor down the long strands of hair
that cascade down my back and fall
in my face and betray my boy-like
interior.

2.
I watch you and how you know who you are,
as you talk of hormone therapy and chest binders
or bras and wigs and make-up and dresses, and I
begin to cry because you know who you are,
even if the rest of the world does not.

3.
I want to cut my hair,
but I'm afraid my face is just too ugly
to have locks that fall to my ears,
that even short hair won't solve my problems,
won't have the cashier at the drug store call me
"sir".

4.
I'm scared of surgeries,
surgeries that would leave faint scars
beneath my *******, and allow me to walk
down a beach in trunk and a bare toned chest.
I have my binder but I will never be completely flat.

5.
I think the reason I am so scared
of cutting away the girl in me
is because I do not know
if there is really a boy inside.

You've been there for me
since the start of junior high
You've watched me as I smiled
and you comforted me when I cried.

You write better than I do,
your poetry soft and quaint
You draw with such lovely style
whether it be pencil, marker, paint.

I used to hate you touching me
but now I find I crave it.
I love the way I feel about you
although I don't understand it.

I devour each one of your poems,
love that simple poetry
so perhaps you'll try to think it's fine
when I pretend they're all written for me.

You fear the dark
and I'm scared of heights,
so we stay on the ground
and turn on the lights.

The curtains close and the lights go up
We wait for the next performance to get ready.

Soon the think red drapes are parted,
and my heart jumps,
because there he is.

The show begins, screaming into the mike,
Are you ready to rock?
I am.

They **** the songs, but after awhile I stop paying attention
to the songs and start watching them.

I watch as he throws his hair back, long and thick and curly,
singing at the top of his voice, with the edge and rough raw that even
a shot of T won't get me.

I shift from him to his friend, his friend that is everything I want.

He belts out Hound Dog, he rips into his guitar and shreds the songs

a  p   a  r  t .

His slender arms, with the bulge of muscle shining shining sweat.
Furrowed brow and nimble fingers that I want all over me.

Turn back to the first boy, watch his hips
circle behind his guitar, his groin pressing against the smooth wood.

Behind his zipper a throbbing energy that he teases with,
smirking into the audience, with more grace and sensuality
than I when I practice in my room behind a locked door.

The tears come at the end, and I blink them back,
always blinking them back.

a  l  w a y  s.

Can't decide if I like you or if I like your body,
if I want you or your body.

Is it bad that I want to strut onstage with my bass guitar laying flat against my chest, to shred a song with my vocal chords bleeding ****** raw?

And at the same time, I long for a smooth body,
a flat stomach and long, luscious hair, tumbling down my back.

Gentle ******* beneath silky cups, curving me into a petite doll.


I watch the boys and my heart aches, for him, and for his body.

I don't know what transexual means but it might be me.

It's because I realised I trusted you
more than I ever could with him,
that I finally was able to push him away
and pull you completely in.

Could you kiss me?
Remember when we used to hate each other?
I think I might have loved you
Did you like girls?
I loved being your son
I still have that* Footloose pamphlet you gave me
Thanks for being nice to me
Carrot-top Kelley
I tacked that picture on my bulletin board
scratch my back?
You were my first step outside kid
I still think you were flirting with me
I was surprised when you swore
Can I get a towel, please?
I was writing poetry when you found me
Paul really is great, huh?
*can I sit with you one more time?

They told her love was perishable
so she drew a knife to her chest.
Slashed two diagonal slits across
the underside of her breast.

Pulled the slightly pulsing *****
out from her bloodstained body,
to stop herself from lustful thoughts
or from playing naughty.

Grew up older, misplaced her trust,
and mistook loving for simple lust;
she hadn't found love, that sad old geezer,
because she had stowed her heart in the freezer.

To the man with the camera
at the sweet sixteen,
you asked me why I was
crying,
and I was choking so hard
I couldn't speak,
but it was because
she was so nice to me.

I'll remember holding onto you
close, cradling your head in my hands,
from those old days when your coat was
sleek back and shiny,
slim white bib trailing down your
chest,
I'll remeber how we got you,
overwieght,
under loved,
scared and
alone,
abandoned by many.
You came with a blue blanket
with butterflies on it,
we called it your
"butterfly blanket"
I'll remember your
heart murmur,
and the check-up you had
when they shaved your chest.
I'll remember how as the years passed
your muzzle became streaked with gray,
but how you still found that
puppy-like energy
when it was time for a
car ride or supper
or a walk.
I'll remember how much you relied on
habit,
racing to the door after you
finished your supper,
whining anxiously to go outside and bark.
That time when you pretended to get a
drink of water,
when all you were doing was
trying to get to your sister's
bowl,
that day when you took Sara's
bone too,
and stood waiting at the door,
two bones clenched tightly,
wagging.
How you loved
to eat the packed snow off
my coat in the winter,
how you held your
lollipop treats like the real thing,
stick in paws,
chewing on the sucker.
Handing you a treat and
having you run
to the door,
how you loved the
outside,
you'd sit out in
the rain,
the snow,
the hot sun,
such an outdoor dog.
I love you.
I'll smile fondly
when I bike past
the holes you would dig
to sit in,
recall the glittering sand
shining in your graying fur.
Grin when I see
A mid-summer night's dream,
my donkey-dog,
and I'll
stroke your fur one last time,
and scratch behind your ear
so your back leg would thump,
whisper love in your floppy ear,
and slowly put you down to rest
in a sunny spot
in the backyard,
to rest in the sun
for eternity.

Rain slides on the window panes,
I read about knights and dragons slain,
Outside of the glass, it's foggy and grey,
And inside the drawing room, the children play.

Fog suspends in space in curls,
The sky outside is white like pearls.
Candle light reflects soft yellow on the glass
Thick dusty books are stacked up for class.

The carpet is soft and fluffy and warm
In the corners of the wall spiders hide from the storm.
It's magical and I suppose if you look out to the street,
you'd think you saw Gandalf making his way through the sleet.

As I'm sitting, sitting waiting,
As all my thoughts are congregating,
I find my mem'ries to be tainting,
Forgetting about my Charlotte May.

At Minerva's School of Pristine Boarding,
We first began our timid courting,
And it was clear that she was hoarding,
My heart belonged to Charlotte May.

We got married in December,
Rung in the new year close together,
But soon after she got the letter,
The letter drafted Charlotte May.

They sent her back in shrouds of silver,
No longer living just to wither,
And her coffin made me shiver,
Deep in the ground was Charlotte May.

As I'm sitting, sitting waiting,
Lonely, lost, and always hating,
I realise my thoughts are fading,
Fading away like Charlotte May.

But I remain here, quite unchanging,
The scenes around me rearranging,
My days filled up with hoping, praying,
Until I reach the final day,

And I return to Charlotte May.

your face is in profile, and i
can see your thoughts
etched across the skin

cold,
pale,
posterity

Your eyeliner dr
                             i
                               p
                                 s

down your eyes in

S H A D O W S

and the profile is screaming

inside and

nothing

outside.

you made me

shiver.


Girls and dolls
and red ****** rain
train

tracks

silver in
the light
sparrows with
mohawks

****** tears and

guns you promised


never to give.


You made me afraid

of the dark

Children that I leave behind,
I beg you not to weep for me,
for I lived a life that was long and full,
I saw all there was to see.

Children that I leave behind,
keep living out my legacy,
you are the captains of your ships,
you control your destiny.

Children that I leave behind
I know you're feeling so much pain,
but keep your head up, keep on living,
and you'll feel happy once again.

Children that I leave behind,
do not mourn for what I lost,
as we all must leave this world sometime,
and live on in loved ones' thoughts.

Children that I leave behind,
do not fear when I am far,
and when my time is up,
please return me to the stars.

Look at the comments, and who do you see,
it's the kind, motivational Timothy.
Spreading good thoughts and advice to me,
The father of our website HelloPoetry

Oh Lucy do you feel the bugs
crawling beneath your skin?
Oh Lucy what should I say
to your teachers and your kin?

Oh Lucy you were such a fool
or maybe some'd call it brave,
But then I feel so awful
when I want to kick your grave.

Oh Lucy why'd you pay that money
and why'd you take those pills,
Oh Lucy you should've come to us
if you were looking for cheap thrills.

Oh Lucy as you wasted away
did you enjoy seeing me cry?
Oh Lucy I'm so mad at you-
Why'd you have to die?

Oh Lucy why'd you speak that "yes"
and why did you give in?
Oh Lucy was that great sky worth it--
just to see the diamonds?

Oh Lucy you never said good-bye
You never even waved
You never realised what a glorious gift
your life, God to you, gave.

Oh Lucy dear I miss you so,
why'd you go and do that?
Oh Lucy without you I don't think I can cope--
Oh Lucy won't you please come back?

When I did something wrong, they hurt me.
When I asked a question, they laughed.
If I made a mistake, they beat me,
When I messed it up, they snapped.

I bled, I cried, no one cared.
I asked, I wanted, no one shared.
The damage is still here, inside me.
This pain is never going to leave me.

The red blood mixes with the tears,
I hear them laughing at my fears.
They put me into what I'm going through,
Said I deserve it but I don't think I do.

I trace my fingers across the scars
Etched upon my body like stars.
But it's okay, I'll be alright,
As long as I survive tonight.

I sharpen a wooden pencil,
whilst they sharpen a blade,
I open up a one-subject notebook,
they roll up their sleeve.

I press the graphite to a page,
and they against their skin,
And their relief comes in as blood,
while mine only comes in ink.

To the girls who cut their hair
in the dead of night.
To the girls who face their fears
and insist that they're right.

To the girls who wear labels
proudly on their sleeves,
to the girls at the parties,
hiding in the eaves.

To the girls in flannel shirts,
and tight skinny jeans,
To the girls dressed in pride
when the world gets so mean.

To the girls putting lipstick
on never-kissed lips,
to the girls crying at night
Cause their life's such a trip.

To the girls that I want to be,
and the girl I never will,
to the girls that gave up,
this poem's for you.

Winter is over, and so are we,
the soft sunbeams of spring, I am beginning to see,
I am dusting the shelves, and sweeping the floors,
packing you up; sending you out the door.
Our autumn was lovely, but our winter was not,
after you broke my heart and we cried and we fought.
I thought you meant it when you said forever
when it only lasted from June to September.
I sweep away cobwebs of sweet words you whispered,
crumple up noted now regarded as litter.
I throw back the curtains and strong light streams in
I throw out the lover I know I won't win.
My house is clean, and in a way, so am I,
as I move on from you and hold my head high.
A new chapter of life I am ready to meet,
so I set you out with the bins on the street.

who can love forever?
who can promise that?
that they will not just fall out of love
at the drop of a hat.

we dont have to love forever,
just today and tomorrow is fine,
i don't want to be with yours always,
my person must get to be mine.

what if we made no promises?
what if we only lived for today?
what if every time you said 'you are mine'
i laughed and then stated 'no way'

so simply say that you love me,
for today i'll know that it's true
'cause 'forever' is really just a prophecy,
that states i'll be broken by you.

I wish I had the courage
to pull a knife across my skin,
I wish I had a way
to keep the hurt from seeping in.

I wish I could wash the sink
and watch water turn red
covered up with band-aids
as to not stain sheets on bed.

I wish I could look at the scars
spidering up my arm,
I wish I could be brave enough
to do myself real harm.

But then I think about my friends
and it seems a sin
to try to hurt myself at all
it's really giving in.

I open my windows and Breeze walks in,
thanking me and running her cool fingers through my hair.
The Sun thinks staying inside is a sin,
and shines as bright as she can, warming the air.

Dark clouds are an uninvited guest,
and we soon forget they were even there.
Meanwhile white clouds are beginning their quest,
traveling across the blue sky with flair.

The curtains ruffle with a flick and a flutter,
and the bees and the bugs come flying in,
I smile at them all as they greet one another,
in the way they know how, with a creepy bug grin.

I laugh like a child; my worries are gone,
And reaching up high to grab hold of the stars,
They dance from my grip and and keep singing their song.

Invading space
and closer too,
what did they think
when I danced with you?

Late at night when I'm in bed
the hours before flash through my head.
I think of how you cradled me,
so soft, so sweet, so contently.

When I'm with you I can forget
that I obviously have yet
to sprout my wings; a butterfly,
you make me feel too strong to cry.

I feel so special, pretty even,
that it becomes a shock that evening,
when I look into the mirror and find
that all that beauty was in your mind.

How do I tell you I love you,
When I see you every day,
How do I tell you I love you,
When I don't know what you'll say.

When you put your arms around my waist
And whisper in my ear,
This is how I feel alright,
I love when you are near.

When I have to leave it feels too soon,
I think that I might cry,
I pack my things and then I'm off
We never say 'good-bye'.

Because I've already showed myself
I can't handle a razor and
a problem at the same time.

Sometimes I get the desire to cut
and long to feel the pain,
but then I remember how I get with blood
and how my reasons seem so vain.