Poetry

I could fly.

Not like stereotypical Peter Pan style or with bird wings

but with a shirt

with built-in handlebars

I soared and failed

crashing into my ceiling.

I told my brother to hop on

I'm wearing the same dress I wore last year, on an evening that felt like moonlight even though the sky was still a milky purple-blue by the time we left, arms linked, laughter spilling over each other and turning the air fragrant, because back th

I feel useless

Unproductive

No one needs me right now

Good

I have nothing to do

B o r e d o m.

I can't stop thinking about you

I assign myself tasks

Keeping me occupied

With my one and only life,

I plan to think and dream,

no matter if my ideas are rife,

no matter how extreme.

I’ll climb the highest mountain,

figurative or real.

My dreams, I‘ll keep on countin’,

If I can walk through the rain,

I can run in the sun,

even when it feels like the downpour

will never stop.

Because even if it doesn’t for a long time,

umbrellas will be offered

from hands I love to hold

Come together

Offer help

Manage their sorrows

Monitor their emotions

Use kindness,

Not hate

If you fall,

They will be there to catch

You

If their expressions carved in stone

could move once again,

their expressions would remain stony.

The dysfunction

we allow to continue functioning

Their gardens,

now flowering with pollution

In a community of acceptance,

there is a lack of understanding

for the A

in LGBTQIA. 

It’s easier to point fingers

than interlock fingers

or tap fingers to chins,

thinking,

I heard rumors of a great ship,

full of great people.

Did they have room for me?

I swam by the ship

and to my surprise,

I was welcomed aboard,

beckoned,

appreciated,

cared for.

I hold my breath 

Until we are free 

Free 

To simply 

Be. 

And I watch myself suffocate

Forgive me. 

I forgot what is of our reality 

I keep everything i have left of you

I still look at our pictures together

We looked so happy

I still have your sweatshirt

It still smells like you

I still have the stuffed animals

How can i think,
when i sit in classrooms built by men
to teach us how to think like them,
and i try—
god, i try to conjugate freedom
in a language that was never mine,
in a room that doesn't feel like home,