Thread

via Shock

To see it snap was a shock to none,

they had been waiting for quite some time.

How long would it last, they said,

until it could hold no more.

Patience, calm, rationality,

all gone when I finally understood.

This wouldn’t end.

Cherished and Adored

via Shock

Hold me now in your sweet embrace,

and allow me to cherish gentle touch.

It is shocking how love transforms your face,

into beauty beyond compare.

I see home in you, I see warmth,

I see everything I adore.

My friend, my darling, forever more,

I will love you to the grave.

 

It was gentle

via Shock

A diagnosis

All rainy days for me now,

Goodbye to freedom.

What a gentle shock,

How softly they took away,

my youth, my childhood.

It’s chronic, they said.

For the rest of your life now,

You must be careful.

I well and truly,

hate that disgusting “careful,”

A word made of chains.

It dances

via Agile
 

Desire, nimble,

It dances, it twists and turns,

In my yearning heart.

 

When I think of you,

It all seems so, so simple.

So hard otherwise.

 

For all those who are

Unknown to me, desire 

Flees out of my grasp.

 

Mind and Body

via Agile

It is strange to think that all I am as a person, is wrapped up in my mind alone.

My mind that moves with such agility between extremes, content and restless,

hopeful and hopeless, in love and just friends.

Male and female.

My mind has always preferred the gray areas, I think because I like the vagueness.

People sometimes ask me, why don’t you like to be called a woman? Why don’t you feel desire like everyone else?

Because my mind prefers to shrug off questions like that.

I prefer to be me, nothing more nothing less.

I don’t feel like just a woman, I don’t feel the need for sex barely at all. There’s so much more to me than the simple answers that people expect.

So I just prefer to be vague and hope my mind is agile enough to miss the creeping guilt when I see the disappointment that always comes with my less than satisfactory answers

to questions I hate being asked.

 

My body used to be more flexible, I did gymnastics, cheerleading, volleyball, soccer.

So many ways that my body was moving and working, trying to keep up with the speed of my brain that moved so quickly from one interest to another.

But now all my agility seems to be gone.

I don’t run, I don’t fly through the air, I’m so very grounded.

My doctors say it will make my pain worse, so I don’t do much anymore.

And people ask me, why are you so lazy?

I’m not really.

But no one asks, do you miss it?

The answer is always yes.

“Healthy”

via Loophole

They want there to be a loophole, I think.

Like not being able to tell at first glance that I’m sick

is enough of an excuse to pretend I’m well.

They don’t want to have to take me seriously,

who would want to have to try and understand

Constant, aching pain?

Fatigue that doesn’t go away after a good nights’ rest?

An illness that leaves the mind a wreck as well as the body?

No one does.

Not even me,

but I don’t have any loophole to use.

I don’t get to use any excuses.

Morning daze

via Loophole

Can I claim drowsiness as a way to get out of dealing with what I said last night?

I was reckless, sending messages like cannon balls and not caring where they landed.

In the morning everything is fuzzy.

Everything but the sharp edge of panic when I remember what I said to you.

What loophole is there to pretend I’m not still dazzled and left wanting everytime I think of you?

Theoretically

via Loophole

If I could find a loophole,

any loophole really,

that would allow me to kiss someone through a telephone,

wouldn’t that be grand?

If I could find a way to transfer intimacy like a text message,

wouldn’t it make the world feel a little less lonely?

Sick Days

via Study

It is hard to be

So sick and yet studious,

I try to tell them.

But they do not care

For my so-called excuses,

So I stay quiet.

My sick days are not

Relaxed or restful at all,

Because I worry.

What if they ask me,

“What proof do you have of this

So-called pain of yours?”

My illness is shy,

It does not like to be seen

By anyone else.

So I am left with

An illness you cannot see,

And no evidence.

My sick days, they are

more stressful than peaceful, now

All days are the same.

Spectacles

You are supposed to make my views on the world clearer, and yet.

Here I am.

Unsure about so many things.

So why bother with you?

Perhaps so you can make me see my mistakes, but even then.

There seems to be a lag, and I never catch on until it’s too late. 

But fine.

I’ll accept you.

Only because you allow me the beauty of seeing individual leaves on trees,

and the petals on flowers.

You let me see the clouds as they dance across the sky.

That will have to be enough.

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