queer-with-a-pen

memory of a life once lived

sometimes my girl-hood

feels like a festering wound

a dark closet full of cobwebs

and dresses that never felt right

 

it was looking in the mirror

and there was hair down

to my ass that i screamed

when my mom tried to brush

and put bows in it

 

that face was not mine

a body that suddenly became

soft in places it had once been flat

and i could no longer run around shirtless

pretending i was one of the boys

before i knew what it meant

 

and everytime i played house

with the girls i harbored secret crushes on

i was the father

the son

the brother

the strange uncle that might be a vampire

 

i was the prince and i would

rescue the princess and still look

handsome with blood and dirt

on my face and clothes

 

and then something split open

inside of me and i almost

passed out in an old navy

because my body rioted

against this pain that

was so new and so red

and so heavy that

i became anemic multiple times

 

these unwanted and unwelcome changes

had me looking for an EXIT sign

that kept blinking off when i needed it most

and all i wanted to do was

grow hair on my face

and my chest

and for my voice to drop

into a sound that i could

hear without hating it

 

and the first time i

pulled this black tri-top fabric

over a chest that was always

too big to be seen as pectorals

it took my breath away

and hurt so quickly

but when i looked in the mirror

i saw a young man

 

i finally saw this boy

that grew up being told

he was a girl

and being called a name

that never felt right

 

i finally saw this boy

that knew who he was

before he knew his times tables

and that wound

gaping with years of hurt

scabbed over that much more

and he was able to

stand up a little straighter

 

i finally saw this boy

looking back at me

and he was

my god he is

so happy

to be alive