Being Trans Is A Bit Like

being trans is a bit like

running hands over yourself and thinking

“i cannot wait for there to be a scar there

in the place of something else”

to know that all that will be left is the mark

a tangible reminder of how the creator wronged you

and how you made it right

the wind keeps reaching through the open window of my car. she is trying to rip my heart out from under my seatbelt.

I wonder what she wants with it.

fireflies honestly make me cry a little. out of gratitude and wonder. thank goodness we live in a world with bioluminescence. thank goodness we live in a world where it can fly.

god will never love me the way he loves you,

and that is all the assurance I have in this world.

I am holding my bloody heart out to you, my hands stained with red from holding it for so long.

and while you are not the person who ripped it out of my chest,

you are the person I am trusting to take care of it.

maybe you can put it back in for me.

I am not a girl,

but rather a boy in the way

that I am burdened a daughter.

disappointingly so.