Crush Docility

He holds my face in his hands and tells me he has hope for us, that things will get better. I'm terribly stubborn and never believe it when people say that, but when he looks at me with so much hope, so much strength, I find myself embracing his ambition for a greater future.

Before, I never thought I had a future but he reminds me that we will conquer it together. We make a savings plan for my top surgery.

I've been unreversibly changed by him. No matter how isolated I feel from the trans community I have our little group of two to come back to every night. Being trans is fucking debilitating, but being trans with him is utterly beautiful. I can't wait to cultivate the person I'm meant to be by his side. But most of all I can't wait for the day things are better. Where I find revolution beyond his embrace and we live quietly thinking of our oppression as a memory. Where our idenities, our love, isn't a political scapegoat. I clench my teeth together, containg my craving for another reality, and press my lips to his. I squeeze my eyes shut and wish, like he's a shooting star, hoping if I hold on long enough fredom will come.