my body will never be used
for what the male gods have the female insides predestined for
All in Poetry
Time, A Notebook Of Water
From the moment we left those feelings
unpronounced
The Choices We Don’t Make
Your ace-ness has fed you a
comforting lie
journal (take #53)
dear diary, i’ll make this brief in the sense that i’ll try to summarize everything i cannot say concisely
Three Poems
When he clasps your hand
It is both a greeting
And a recognition of the
Work needing to be done
In the absence of? Everything.
He holds me so tight I might compress back into stardust.
asexual has a manic episode
lens of / kaleidoscopic shards / render me
The Formula
boy + girl = couple
Society has hammered the formula into me since birth.
Does there have to be a reason?
I walked away because I had a bus to catch.
The Structure of a Breakdown: My Experiences as an Aroace Trans Person as Told Through Poetry
Cut off, cut out of me
These organs that curse me!
Self Expression
Little girl. Listen.
Amorous to a Being that is Not
The need from your bones to mold right up against someone else’s
Bones that wouldn’t be mine anytime soon
CAROUSEL
We don't have to be their
beholders
or tenants
GIVE ME A TOUCH OF YOUR FINGERS ON MY SKIN (OR THE SUNBATHERS)
Give me an unforced
touch of your
fingers on
my skin.
the handiwork of mine
“It was wonderful to catch up
with you, my friend”
touch
Doesn’t mean my touch
can’t be just as much
tender.
This is close enough
We pass with barely a glance
And explain the magic of all
We have found and shared through whispered secrets
