secret poetry & vent blog

hey you can call me Silas, I'm too nervous to post poetry on my main blog so I thought I'd make another one for it. I'm bisexual & trans, and my pronouns are he/him :)

sat across from me in the second floor of the general store

i agree with that

but i can't figure out what our kiss meant to you,

or, honestly, what it meant to me

i'm not the kind of person to make an impulsive decision and fly across the world

i'm not the kind of person to leap into the ocean from the rocks

and i'm definitely not the kind of person to kiss someone without thinking

but something happened that afternoon in july,

and when you looked me in the eye and dared me to kiss you,

it wasn't even a question to me if i should or not,

those words flipped a switch and for the first time,

i acted without a thought

it was awkward and terrible and i forgot to close my eyes

but it did mean something

so what is that meaning?

now it's tainted with your shame and your lies

it might be as simple as you led me on and that was the result

you're still a puzzle i can't figure out

all that time you spent changing just for all of it to come undone, your metamorphasis reversed and back into their cocoon you went

i know it feels safer to pretend

i know the truth hurts

but it hurts far more when you're 50 and realize this isn't what you wanted

when it hits, are you going to think of me?

or will you forget my name?

i want you to call

i'll bite down on the words "i told you so"

and instead be happy

even though i'm confused and irritated by it all, i want you to get out too

nothing is more euphoric than having the weight of a person you are not anymore lifted from your chest so you can breathe

and no matter how much he thinks he knows you, i'll know more.

i'm sure he'll kiss better,

but i'll remember the pieces of you that you hid away

i want to make you laugh because i never get tired of the sound,

i want to hold you when you need to be held

my love language is not listed in the common 5

i'd call mine fathering or noticing

if you are my friend,

you will be fed, clothed, safe, hydrated, and warm if i have anything to say about it

i will give you advice if you need it,

even when i know that you have to come to conclusions yourself to do anything

because maybe this time you'll listen

i'll scold you for talking down on yourself because you're bullying my friend and they don't deserve that

i notice when you're gone

i notice when you're about to miss out

because it gives you another sense to be known by

my best friend smelled one of mine in the hallway at school and thought i was there

my other friend told me that smelling my perfume is comforting because she knows that it's me.

scents hold memories,

and that can be a blessing as well as a curse

it's a special thing to know that something as simple as catching a quick whiff of sol de janiero 76 makes someone think of me during their day

tendrils snaking out into me

crossing the pencil lines

you can try and soak it up,

but it stays

and now i'm crying over a broken heart

my own intact, but hers is shattered

a car collision, a metal chunk flying off to break a window

never involved, but still affected

i stare at the painting in the frame behind the barrier,

she has her face so close she smells paint

so close her nose brushes the texture

all she can see is colors,

and i can see the story

sometimes it's more painful to watch the tragedy than experience it

i want to be a painter,

i want to write a book,

i want to write better poetry,

i want to make music,

i want somewhere to put this rage inside of me,

i need to scream into a microphone,

i need special effects and gore,

i need girls hunched over the bodies of old men wearing suits,

gutted and empty,

i need all of the words possible to make you see it so vividly you throw up

i need every shade of red and a paintbrush

the anger of my mother and her mother before her was passed down to me,

the girls are hungry,

the girls are dying,

the girls cannot fight back anymore.

take my hand and sharpen your teeth,

grow your claws and let the dirt fimd shelter underneath

scream while you still have the voice,

while your face can still contort enough to release it,

before they fill it up and freeze it

no wonder some men are marrying robots, isn't that all women are in their minds?

but they live, they breathe, they think, they bleed

they bleed the same red you will when they find you

so much money in your pockets,

so much money stained in blood,

blood running down her leg in the shower while she tries to look smoother than barbie so the boys will look at her and the girls finally will not

blood in her underwear she was never told enough about

her blood running cold as her body shuts off essential functions after you told her to be small is be loved

girlhood is not soft,

womanhood is not gentle,

it becomes a fight for survival,

the beginning of an unquenchable anger growing in your chest,

look what you've done to us,

look what you've done to me,

look at all my sisters who never made it past sixteen

so many men profit from that pain, but they are called leaders, innovators, hard workers

while the women affected are left to rot

"it's how every teenager gets"

but it shouldn't be

it doesn't have to be

but it always will be as long as men stay hungry for money

but i was you before

you stay locked inside

only you can open the door

i hold a key

but it only could open mine

if you ever make it out,

i hope you do it alive

please call me when it hits

when the weight lifts off your chest

call me even if you're crying or the happiest you've ever been

i am angry at your lack of bravery

but i understand your fear

one of the worst things to feel is that you are wrong,

inherently,

deeply.

deep enough that baptismal water will never make you clean,

the words inked in red won't mean a single thing

even if you stand on that stage,

paper in your shaking hand,

crying in front of the congregation in a white gown

the feeling won't stay in the water,

the touch of the pastor dunking you under won't cause miracles

it will follow you home

and wherever else you go

until you accept that this is who you are

you aren't dirty, not really

but they tell you that you are,

that you will be if you act on your heart.

it's in your blood, it's in your bones

if you still believe in him he still loves you, i promise

you don't have to leave yourself behind, only the guilt

and without it,