Broken Piecesi.Broken Pieces4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
some nights are so lonely
that i find myself craving smoke from your lungs,
the thick scent of the earth and your heavy cologne,
and air so cold that my breath hangs frozen in it,
and my lungs so warm that they burn me from the inside.
i find myself engrossed in books you never read
but always said you wanted to,
the books i never wanted to read
but always said that i would.
i find myself in your forgotten clothing,
two sizes too big and yet so very small
that they hug me until i can't breathe
and i wind up naked by morning,
tossed across this too-big mattress
like a mermaid
dashed over the rocks of a raging sea.
i find myself in pieces strewn about our old house,
in chipped mugs and shrunken sweaters
and flowers with no petals in them,
and i follow our ancient patterns and try to find the rest of me,
but i think it slipped somewhere in your suitcase
and is halfway across the universe
Such a GenderqueerI'm an androgynous female.Such a Genderqueer3 years ago in Sketches More Like This
My birth name is "Melanie".
But I also like to be called "Devan".
My net name is NRJF, I'm mainly called that.
Being androgynous, I'm very... VERY genderqueer, I find.
I feel stuck in the middle.
Mainly leaning towards being a guy.
I'm fine with my body, but, some days
I feel like a boy. I let my arm hair and leg hair grow a lot, I let my armpit hair go a bit, I don't care much for my hair, I just make it decent. I don't wear perfume or jewelry. I dress like a guy (despite the generally girly clothes my mom buys me) and tighten my bras a little more than usual to flatten them some.
But other days, I feel like a girl. I shave like crazy, including my arms, I wear jewelry, girly clothes, perfume, and I do my hair really well. As best as I can, actually.
But despite what I feel like.
Or look like.
I act neutral.
I like being called a "he" as much as I like being called a "she".
My persona even reflects my general nuetralness. She goes by three name
On Being GenderqueerAs someone who doesn't fit the gender binary, but is closer to fitting as a man than as a woman, I know that I sometimes find it much harder for me to bring up trans issues than stuff about my sexuality. I'm someone who didn't have a feminine personality until I was 16, and even now, it is pretty much a construct. Now, I have fun pretending to be a girl, but that's what it feels like for me.On Being Genderqueer7 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
When I cut my hair recently, a few days later I was binding and wearing guys clothes, and I realized that I was seeing myself when I looked in the mirror again. I hadn't really felt like it had been me that I was seeing for the past three years.
I don't know what the reason for it is, though there are physical things that seem related that I have learned about over the years: I have much higher testosterone levels than average for a girl among other things. When I was a kid (and even to some extent still), guys social dynamic made a lot more sense and I fit into it, while I was completely at a loss
Chicagochicago, 4 am,Chicago4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the stars are drowned by
the moon paled by
the lure of fast food joints.
three flights of stairs
and i am no closer to god.
Before You Judge Metake a walk in my shoes,Before You Judge Me4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the ones that never fit and are always caked with
mud or dirt or cat shit,
the kind that pretty ladies tell you to take off
before you come into their white-carpet mansions.
take a walk in my shoes,
the ones that give you blisters
in places you never knew you had,
the kind that are never laced properly
and fall off when you run.
and while you're at it,
try on my clothes,
the shirts that never hang right
or the pants that always get made fun of because they're torn up,
the kind that are comfy but mother
won't let you wear.
try on my clothes,
the socks that make your feet sweat
and the gloves you have to wear when it gets cold,
and no, not those gloves because they have holes in them
even though they're your favorite and you don't mind.
and while you're at it,
try my brain on for size,
the dull fuzziness that never seems to go away
or the hyper-activity that comes with your sugar highs
(that people say are annoying),
or even the jolt it gets when yo
Sand in my Hairwe were caught in a whirlwindSand in my Hair4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the summer of '69,
and the sand from our nightlife beaches
never really washed itself
from our hair.
i am finding grains on my bed in the mornings
after i dream of you,
sweeping them into mason jars
and trying to remember our days
as they saw them.
the air is uncomfortably still.
i pick absently at the scabs on my knees
and think about that summer,
the night sky that seemed to stretch until breaking,
the way the wind kicked sand at my face like a child.
we clutched hands to stay together-
our feet nearly plucked from the earth like
and the sand sprayed into our eyes and ears and noses
but we laughed all the same.
and later, we coughed up beaches on the hotel floor,
feeling the grit between our teeth
and washing it down with shots of anything we could find
in the liquor cabinet.
we slept on a sandy mattress without making love,
a concept foreign to the world outside.
we fell asleep in a tangle of innocent limbs
Bar of the Bedroom Eyeshe hung a sign on the door of hisBar of the Bedroom Eyes4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"those who enter cannot leave."
i was lured by the promise
of warm fire and cold beer,
dim lights and shady people who ask but never tell.
and so i pushed the door in,
and so he looked at me and smiled an evil smile,
and so i sat down at the bar and ordered something strong.
and he told me that his name wasn't important,
just that he had one and he didn't care much for it,
and he poured me a drink and wiped down the bar
and sat at the filthy piano and prodded at the keys.
music speaks better than words do.
and after some songs and when everyone was drunk,
he took me behind the bar and told me
that i was different-
sat me down on a stool and said
"now little missy, it's just me and you,"
told me things that he probably shouldn't have,
kissed me too sloppily with lips that tasted like
beer and cigarettes,
made me run my hands over his tattered body
and drink him like holy water.
and then we sank to the ground
and slept in a p
Beautiful Monsterswe are tangled, unwashed hairBeautiful Monsters3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that splays like tentacles on our bed,
long, dark hair and eyelashes like curtains,
long, beautiful hair and two eyes on two bodies
that only watch in
shady bars, because our friends
can't see us like this.
we are hand-holding under tables,
stumbling through alleyways
into apartments, with doors flung open and shut
when our clothes come off and souls entwine.
and when our screams subside, we are
two bodies, one soul.
we are liars when we sit alone on park benches
and watch sunsets from separate ends.
they ask us "do you know each other?" and we
catch each other's eyes and whisper
and if we are strangers, we should not be
kissing under bridges in the dark,
letting the waves crash over our feet
and forgetting who we are.
The Sands in my Hourglasswhat use are dreamsThe Sands in my Hourglass4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when all they get is broken,
how good can they be
when they glitter on the floor?
i had a dream once.
it was of love and nothing more.
chasing dreams is a useless pastime.
their soft tails melt away in your hands,
and you're left with pain and hurt and heartache
and the touch of a thousand sands.
The Days of Our Livesmonday said that you loved me.The Days of Our Lives3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he whispered this through broken teeth
and touched me with hands that were
crackled, like boiled eggs.
tuesday stole you.
her eyelashes batted too slowly
and i saw you leave,
brought you back to my door-
meek, wet, and disheveled,
clutching wilted roses.
thursday, ever tricky,
hid you in the orange grove with a lady
and no amount of april fools could convince me to stay.
friday let me cry at her bosom,
she stroked my hair and murmured lullabies
into tangled silk.
saturday was kind and gentle.
'fear not,' he said, and patted my hand.
'he will return.'
you did. saturday dragged you home
and draped you over our lovestained couch.
sunday was the meanest day.
he gave me bruises and whiskey-tinted kisses
all up my neck.
i was packed to leave,
monday said that you loved me.
he whispered this through punched-out teeth
and touched me with hands that were
tainted, like last week's garbage,
so tuesday tol
Starfish are Sinnersyou told me one timeStarfish are Sinners4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that starfish were sinners,
that they were scraped from the sky by angry gods
and tossed into the raging sea.
i asked you why they deserved it,
but you grabbed my hand and pulled me back
to our hotel room,
lamented over dead animals in slices
on whole wheat bread
and muttered about
the taste of turkish coffee.
in the evenings,
we combed the beaches for something you'd lost.
the sea kept calling you,
you told me
between shovelfuls of wet sand.
covered our walls.
you traced obituaries with your fingertips
and said you'd have those people
to dinner one day,
that i would catch fish
and you would fry them up
and serve them on our best plates.
that day i came from the water
and found you curled on the floor;
when i lifted all 98 pounds of you and carried you to bed,
you told me that you didn't know me,
said you'd never had a family,
but would i be your granddaughter
because you'd always wanted one?
i said yes because
what else was the
WintergirlI.Wintergirl3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Fuck the system," she whispered to me
the first time we met.
"Or it will fuck you."
Her eyes were as clear as a summer day.
I absorbed her meaning, her attitude.
I befriended her and we fucked the system together,
rode it like a bull at the fair
and laughed when it tried to tame us.
She laughed the loudest when people said
She said that they were sheep, that they hated us
because we weren't like them.
"We're not wrong," she told me.
"Just different. Just unique."
She was infinite. No star could escape her.
Her smile stretched from one corner of the earth to the other
until the world became one with it.
She was the seismic wave that could start a tsunami,
teasing, powerful, dangerous.
People prayed to their gods for her mercy,
but only the wind knew if she would give it.
The flower of judgement searched her for cracks
to land a root in,
but it found no fissure
and died at her feet.
She owned the world,
Dandelion FluffInfant moons danced on the hillside,Dandelion Fluff3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
bobbing silver orbs in the black of night.
they swayed, and swayed, and swayed.
The night wind ruffled their hair-
I glided through them on bare feet
and shook their tufts into the sky.
They were old, and they were wise,
and they let go of their bodies and floated high above the houses and the trees,
and I laid on my back in the cold, dewy grass,
and prayed for them to come take me.
Daisy Chain Dreamsi.Daisy Chain Dreams4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she taught him to make daisy chains,
and they sat in the summer sun
and tangled their flower-laced dreams into the wind,
letting their white petal wishes spell out letters
on the thirsty grass.
the birds in the air
screeched and soared;
she saw his envy
and taught him how to fly without wings.
they looped flowers over their bodies and giggled
dusk teased the goosebumps from their skin
with gentle fingertips.
she's a poet now, and he's a musician,
and neither have time for silly things like daisy chains
or starving grass.
they meet in silver buildings that are too loud,
and they can't scream over the silence
so they just nod and pretend they don't remember
what the world used to sound like.
they are children
with pink cheeks and sun-kissed skin
and wilted flower halos.
her dreams of him are
she's learning that
daisy chains can't hold her life together,
that the grass is always thirsty
no matter where she runs to,
From Daddy to Father i lost my daddy. i don't even remember losing him, actually. one day he was there, and the next day he was replaced by a man named "father." this "father" isn't like my daddy at all. he doesn't hug me like daddy used to. my daddy used to rub my back when he hugged me, but father pats my back awkwardly. daddy used to talk to me about philosophy. father shoves his ideas down my throat until i choke. my daddy would never do that. my daddy was a nice man, and if he ever caught anyone treating me like father does, he'd whoop their ass. i know he would. and he could, too, because he's the strongest man i know. my daddy could beat father up any day. i wonder where he is, and why he's letting father be mean to me. father is always mean to me. he was okay in the beginning, but now he only talks to me when i'm in trouble. never to say anything good, just when i'm in trouble. daddy used to talk to me about anything, but father only yells. daddy also used to reFrom Daddy to Father4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Unpoetica painter,Unpoetic3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with his tubes rolled down to squeeze out the last
flicks his brushes with precision-
sends ballerina strokes of color across the landscape
to become houses,
and this is elegant to watch.
arms slick to the elbows with grey,
twists her long fingers around the neck of a vase,
coaxes shapes from dirty lumps of clay
and calls them pots,
and this is elegant to watch.
who bends and twirls like long, swaying grasses,
lifts a delicate chin,
points a rounded toe,
leaps and spins and stops breathless
before the judges,
or a crowd.
and this is elegant to watch.
but the poet,
whose eye are red from sleepless nights,
hunches protectively over notebooks,
curses the muses he cries to
and crumples his inadequate words,
hammers his fist on the desk and
topples his coffee onto his poem,
and this is far from elegant.
of all the artists in the world,
the poet is the
Breatheour first breaths together wereBreathe4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the movement of that caterpillar
you put on my sleeve
when it reared up and questioned
the placement of its feet.
we found our footing in
broken flower pots and
little red wagons.
the summer air became a blanket
that kept us warm through winter
and the early days of spring.
i found myself
staring absent-mindedly at the sun.
our laughter began to
permeate every conversation,
then the weather became funny,
and so did our lives,
and we ended up throwing them out
with the garbage
and laughing at the man who took them away.
we had everything and nothing
all at once.
and then our eyes grew heavy with
and our nights began to
and our storylines began
to share a common theme.
and the paint peeled off of our little red wagons,
and our flowerpots cut our feet
when we tried to run away.
and our last breaths together
were sharp and biting,
like the slice of our ice skates
on the thin layer of our dreams.
Across the Marble Skywe danced as dust motes-Across the Marble Sky4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the golden summer sun
shining on our hair, our lips,
and then we were the freckled eggs
that nestled in the straw,
and we spoke with gentle thumps
to the apples that fell in the orchard,
and we punctuated those words with
two-legged chirps and
and then our teeth became little stars
and we kissed until they fell out
and skittered across the marble sky.
Painting the Sunsetsin our youthPainting the Sunsets4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the sky was but a sheet of paper,
and we were pens and pencils
that spelled out stories on the scraps of night.
and we colored the sun red with our laughter,
the sky blue with the sadness we kept inside,
and the feelings that we couldn't comprehend
we gathered on our brushes
and splattered across the dusky horizon.
and these we called the sunsets.
SynesthesiaaloneSynesthesia4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tastes like the first grass of spring,
and the tender shoots
stick in my throat
and i cough.
feels like a hard, oval sugar-disk
that is yellow in color and tastes like
is the melty-blue sky
when the wind kicks up,
and it has the emptiness of a
is brown and vast and breathtaking,
as if the awesome landscape deserves your air
more than you do.
and awesome feels like
popcorn in my shins,
hard kernels exploding into
slippery, fat puffs
that just disintigrate.
is a funny word because it has three i's
and it is rust-red like a river
and reminds me of chalk.
is a slap in the face with
a cool sheet of red metal.
it bubbles up like boiling water.
face is different
if it's mine or yours,
or if i'm facing something
smooth and white and cold
like a marble statue of the sky.
She's Brokeni.She's Broken4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she is an ink-stained poet of seventeen,
whose bruises take the shape of africa
or thailand or italy,
and the ones that don't look like anything
she presses on until the blood pools up
and blackens the map of her skin.
she wanders from
one filament of conscious thought
to the other,
sailing through time and space
as though it were a vast ocean
just for her.
sometimes she sits before the sea.
"who am i?"
she screams to the waves
that drag her under
and fill her mouth
small, wet sand.
she finds beauty in
wine glasses and
roman numerals were never her friends.
she preferred to count on
snails and shipwrecks
and the lonely blue flowers
that speckled the grey of her eyes.
four letters she never wanted to believe in
but always did.
she doesn't know if she'll end up
marrying a boy
or a girl
or just loving everybody
because everybody deserves
to be loved.
maybe she'll just die
because gods are immortal
and she doesn't
She Was a Stormcloudshe was a stormcloud, and you loved her,She Was a Stormcloud3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the two of you took walks and wore
nothing but promises,
broken chains and
strands of pinkish pearls.
and the two of you kissed under trees that attracted silver lightning
(metal branches scraped the sky, and you, always faithful,
tipped your coat over her head to keep her dry.)
but she never stayed that way.
in an instant, she had whirled into the rain
and danced without clothes,
and she left you
with the pain of frostbite on your naked skin
where you trusted her to kiss you warm,
and you thought you heard her laughter
when the sun came out again the next day,
and the next.
she was a stormcloud, and you loved her,
and you didn't know it at the time but
(and they never
Valtreki miss you like hell.Valtrek3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hell, i miss you like
roses in our bath,
the water going cold and your warm legs against me,
the shampoo in my hair
pop pop popping
until you pushed me under,
our goosebumps colliding like
flint and steel.
hell, i miss you like
dewy orchard apples, crisp and sweet-tart
and cold, so cold,
your tongue like a pink lady,
i miss you like
the snow outside our window,
our backs frozen against the trees
and your eyelashes-
flavoured like saltwater and rain.
i miss you like
the fog that roamed our streets in early morning,
apparitions, phantoms, spectres,
cloaked in blackness.
the sound of your breath.
the silence is the only thing i've come to fear.
Dreamersi.Dreamers3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
our backs pressed stories into the hillside.
mine was short and deep
and yours grew long and crooked .
the grass died beneath us when the sun sank below the hill.
"when the clouds change shape,
that's when i leave you,"
and i cried as they shifted with your breath.
"don't forget me."
"i'll be back in the springtime.
try not to miss me."
i missed you in places i never knew i had,
and the night fell down around me and it was all i could do to hold up an end of its black blanket to let the moon pass through.
and when the morning came,
i ached for you.
"babe, don't miss me."
"you say that as if it's easy."
"we're dreamers, babe. everything is easy."
this bed is full of dream-husks.
they keep me turning until the morning.
i am unrecognizable.
i'll be longer than i thought.
the nights are cold here
but i'm more alive than ever.
don't worry about me."
black shadows stole y