Please don't judge my crappy poetry.

I wasn’t complete when you found me. I’m still not, and you know that. You know that no living human Is ever truly complete, And everyone with breath and a pulse Still has so much growing to do. But you also know that nothing compliments My blue hair like your red. Nothing sends electricity through my veins Than the feeling of your hand in mine. Nothing balances out My fire like your water.

I am not used to being held After a long night With bloodshot eyes And tearstained cheeks. For so long, all I heard was “I can’t handle this,” or “You can’t do this now,” or “I need you to be strong for me.” She pulls me close And kisses my forehead, And I whisper, “I’m so sorry, I’m not supposed to do this.” She shushes me And holds me tighter As she tells me, “Baby, this isn’t a one-way street. This is a partnership. We take care of each other.”

It’s not the name My mother gave me -- It will never be  The one she calls me. It is the name that laid dormant Twenty-three years, Filling my lungs But never escaping Until finally, It rolled off the tongue Of someone else With a different intent -- An abbreviation. A nickname. Soon it was the name On my cups at parties, On the inside cover of notebooks, On appointment lists, On restaurant orders. It finally reached the mouths Of friends, coworkers, everyone, And was well-received With a new set of pronouns And a pat on the shoulder. “It suits you so much better, anyway.”

Her mother holds back tears The first time she meets me – This isn’t how she raised Her sweet little God-fearing girl. I try to be as polite As I possibly can, But she simply pretends The person holding her daughter’s hand Doesn’t exist; that I am nothing more Than a wild hallucination. Of course I am hurt, But I laugh it off, And she later tells me that I am worth Every bit of hell That her family gives her. Quite a few women have told me this, But for the first time, I feel in my chest That this is the truth. And she calls me “they,” She calls me “Jax,” She calls me “love.”

The truth is, she doesn’t, And knowing that, One day, she will Both terrifies and excites you.

“Faith” The second that I’d learned That the all-powerful Creator of the Universe Automatically turned their back On the people they’d created Just like me, I turned my back On the people that followed him.

“Write about a single moment.” ”One Word” All I remember Is a loud cry Of a horrible word And turning around To catch a glimpse. I don’t remember What he looked like, Or the door slamming shut, Or my glasses breaking, Or hitting the floor Or what I said When I woke up With my face covered in blood. All I remember Is that one word.

I’ve been screaming Slowly, silently, consistently For nine straight years, Begging my mind for a break. Begging to forget your name, Your face, The way your voice sounded, The way your shitty Axe body spray smelled; Begging to go back To the happy-go-lucky kid I used to be Before you showed up, But begging only goes so far.

I’m sure, by now, You’re sitting in a landfill Somewhere in Kansas Or burnt to ash, All because I entrusted you To the wrong person All those years ago, And I’m sorry That I never got to say “Goodbye” to you properly Or to thank you For being an excellent cuddle partner When no one else would do.

I have been On quite a few dates, Each one of them unique -- Valentine’s Day at a seedy bar, A sold-out hockey game, A two-hour road trip To nowhere in particular. But, up until today, I couldn’t describe What a perfect date was Until I found myself Laying in your lap On a park bench, Listening to stories About your best friend, Your dogs, Just little details About your life While your fingers danced Through my hair.

I’ll take a swift punch to the gut Any day of the year Over all of the bullshit That has happened over These past four months -- One problem ends, Another begins, “But,” I whisper, “It can only go up from here.”

I spent sixteen Snowed in with my friends Drinking hot chocolate And telling old stories. Seventeen was spent In my room, alone, Because I’d been grounded For failing math yet again. Eighteen was spent In a sex shop And a tattoo parlor, And nineteen was Walking back to my dorm In a snowstorm After getting drunk For the very first time. Twenty through twenty-two Were intoxocated escapades, Too foggy and faded To recall, and Twenty-three…well, I honestly Didn’t plan to make it To twenty-three, and The whole day was wrapped In existential crisis. But twenty-four… Twenty-four will be everything That twenty-three wasn’t.

"Write a haiku." "Fancy Rats" Climb my shoulders now, My tiny little children With long tails and paws.

I’ll never forget The slurs you used to hurl at me Not long after You ripped me from my closet -- And I’ll never forget The joy I felt When I’d learned that your heart Had been torn to pieces By another woman.

"Write about a fandom without making it sound like it’s about a fandom." "Second Family" It's absolutely remarkable To see so many different people From so many different places, Different walks of life, Coming together to share Ideas, art, stories... It's absolutely remarkable When that second family Is finally found.

"Write about a friend of yours." "SLM" It's remarkable How many mistakes I've made -- And so many of them Were at your expense. And yet, After all of my fuck-ups, You still greet me With a smile so genuine It nearly moves me to tears And a hug so warm It almost hurts to end it.