bird

butch they/he 24

[birdsvhstape]

bite

pull you behind me, firm bite on your

soft hand

i don't wonder if it's hurting you

your expression calm

admirable

pull you behind me, to the place i circle

three times before i go to sleep

content that you are here

in my secret place

content that you move calmly behind me

softening my bite

relaxing my jaw

i can do what i promise

i will do what you ask

[birdsvhstape]

[birdsvhstape]

[birdsvhstape]

fall is romantic in a heartbreaking way

i like to give advice i don't take and borrow my friend's clothes without permission.

there are a lot of things i wish i did more and less. the leaves are changing color and i am still the same in many ways. i create angry art and then politely smile at the things that inspire it. my bike rides are without a helmet and my conversations are with a poker face.

won't you walk down the stairs to say hello?

won't you return my messages with interest and intent?

the jeans i'm wearing are the same one my heart got broken in. i bring your old sweater on vacation and i wont tell you how it went. they're selling the home i made in my college town and my friends are getting engaged.

this poem is about a lot of people

[birdsvhstape]

suddenly, i'm twenty again. nothing and everything bad has happened to me. i can't escape the sense that something terrible is about to happen. my stomach and heart feel like wet newspaper being mushed around in my body.

paper mache

these days i feel like i'm becoming too much, a weed over growing under a house, moss taking over the sidewalk. i wrote about that once when i was heartbroken last fall.

but i know i am kind.

i fear rabid bats, my ceiling caving in, and losing all of the people i love. will love always feel so far away?

i let myself believe too much last spring. i got a taste of something bigger then me. i want it back.

i don't like feeling afraid when the implication is that i have something to lose.

[birdsvhstape]

on more days then not, i see a boy in the mirror.

freckled, sweaty, crying, clean, flushed cheeks, smiling, often tired.

he stands taller then before, cuts his hair recklessly, and displays every dyke-ish tendency he used to be afraid of. twenty-five months of weekly injections, singing to himself lionel richie to ease the fear of the needle hurting.

there are a lot of things he still can't control. a lot of sadness that grows and shrinks with time, but on more days then not,

he looks in the mirror and sees a boy.

[birdsvhstape]

when i close my eyes there is a gentle something.

i envision myself sitting. knees to my chest in my old bathtub. i've been crying, or was out too long in the cold, or had too much to drink

and i am sitting in the bathtub and it is sitting there behind me.

i lift up my head while still clinging to my knees. if i let go the moment will fall apart (and probabaly so will i).

the gentle something is washing and combing and petting my hair. and i let myself feel vulnerable and safe at the same time. for the first time.

(thinking a lot about this drawing i made when i was 19, the painting i did of it when i was 21, and how it's still hanging on my wall at 24)

[birdsvhstape]

i feel so much older than i was seven months ago.

my heart breaks in same and different ways while my bangs grow long over my eyebrows. i think of new things to be sad about, or proud of, or envious for.

count backwards the months and tell me what lesson i should have learned over this time.

[rthwrms]

IF U FEEL LIKE A DEMON IN THE WORLD

[birdsvhstape]

you provide me with small consolations, petty gifts and gestures that simulate time and attention. will you throw away my toothbrush when you leave?

i collect a lot of things, garbage i turn into keepsakes, stuff i'd feel embarrassed to have found or explain.

i hope a piece of me remains in the suite case of your being.

oftentimes i'm afraid my love is seen as weakness. i'm not brave like the people you fall asleep beside. or just not brave in the same way.

most of the time i know that's okay.

i straddle you and look into your eyes and it feels like i know you.

some of the time i feel you looking back at me.

i walk away wanting to look back. you're always looking forward. i know this.

[birdsvhstape]

i know better then to wait around at the bar hoping someone will take me home. it's not helpful to reflect on the things i lack.

i try to believe i am a relatively content person. the pit is growing.

why can't i feel happy to have a home, and friends to be reminded of, and food on the table?

why am i still hungry?

[thebonedogs]

'i'm somewhere else now', embroidery on calico fabric, 2025 (ig)

[birdsvhstape]

i am warm and powerful.

my love does not end with an unsent letter or words unsaid. i utter the names of my lost loves at church every sunday when we pray.

my love is not contained in a pile of clean dishes or homemade cds. it permeates everything i do. nothing i see, hear, touch, or taste is without layers of noticing. i pay close attention because i know that love and noticing are woven together in how i feel everything. sometimes i think i feel love too deeply. but i am more convinced that fearful feeling comes from how honest i know my love to be.

[rthwrms]

i am a chair

[birdsvhstape]

the sun shines on more days now. i think the stars and planets are moving in my favor. an older femme lesbian rejoiced with me over mars going direct last week at sunday service. i trust her joy and that things are beginning to change.

surely there will be setbacks; nothing goes off without a hitch.

i feel less lonely as the days pass, a feeling i've craved all winter. maybe it's because spring is coming, or my 24th year is about to begin, or because i'm finally listening to myself when i tell myself to feel the fear and do it anyways.

i hope these moments aren't fleeting. i remind myself i can't get too comfortable. i also remind myself to relax.

the days are starting to smell more like the late summer days when i was surrounded by excitement and uncertainty.

soon, i will be able to put on a t-shirt without a jacket and go to a place of belonging.

[xanaxfarts]

Catherine Opie: 'Dyke Deck' (1995)

[bitch-of-the-blade]

You have no clue how bad I need this

[birdsvhstape]

i would love nothing more then to pile into a car full of friends and strangers and lovers.

there, we would exchange loving glances and jokes and words of little and great meaning. the songs on the radio would weave into our conversation and the gaps of silence between thoughts.

our destination, known or unknown, is irrelevant. i am happy to be pressed thigh to thigh with the warm bodies i chose to spend my days with.

in that car, i would be certain that we are not meant to live our lives alone.