You wanna be Peter Pan.
You wanna be that fairy-dusted disaster that conquers Hook and slays pirates because that’s what strong boys do.
But they gave you a dress, and a name to match, and a lot of pink stuff you’d never play with.
You loved action figures just as much as dolls (yeah, you love dolls, don’t lie).
You don’t walk like a lady though.
You flunked ballet class.
“You can’t go, it’s boys only.”
“Don’t wear swimming trunks, wear a bathing suit.”
“You’re too old to be a tomboy! GROW UP.”
You can’t fly. You never will.
Even days when you’re wearing the perfect clothes
people will stare and say, “Is that a girl or a boy?”
And you smile to yourself because today,
maybe you might just pass,
but then you see their eyes register no facial hair,
no knot in your throat, no bulge in your pants, they say it again.
“IS THAT A GIRL OR A BOY?”
This time they know and they just wanna see you squirm
and you do and they snicker and give you that look that says, “You aren’t human here.”
You’re stuck with the body you’ve got and the gender you don’t
There’s no fairy dust
No flying away
No childhood dreams
So you’re doing the best you can.
You rock your indecisive parts proudly,
but there are days when you can be shattered by a quick tongue.
Days when men argue about the lines of your body, and then one says, “It’s got tits.”
because you’re not worthy of any other title.
Days when girls will hate you for what you are
whatever you are
you aren’t human here.
But I’ve got tits.
So on that day when he said to me,
“I don’t care if you’re gay, I’d still fuck the shit out of you,”
I should’ve been willing, right?
But I wasn’t.
So I walked faster trying to escape his leering face,
the look of malice in his eyes that I’ve seen in so many other men
“I’ll fuck you straight, girl.”
I don’t know how much of a girl
I am but at that moment I wished I had the knuckle strength of men.
But I don’t, so I left my pride in this throat,
I would try to glue myself back together for tomorrow
because there are always gonna be days like this.
Days when you have to carry your somber heart like a coffin,
days when you pass until you slip and let your words fall from your mouth carried by a feminine voice and they know again.
Know that you’re not a him, or a her, but something in between, not human to them.
What an abomination. What a monster.
Why can’t you be normal with your dress, your boyfriend, your virginity?
They wanna paint you the color of smashed hymens.
They want you to know that naked, you will always be soft like a woman;
naked, you will always have the parts of a woman,
you, IT, your telltale breasts
you will NEVER be one of those strong boys.
you are far from Peter Pan but learn to hold your back like a flagpole,
it’s all you’ve got out there.
there’s no Neverland.
Ya know what? Reblog this if you agree that online friends ARE real friends.
I will be your
7 AM sleepy kisses
8 AM French toast
9 AM rushed goodbyes
10 AM love calls
11 AM daydreams
12 PM lunch notes
1 PM new email
2 PM coffee break texts
3 PM reminiscent thoughts
4 PM longing
5 PM drained love
6 PM post-work hugs
7 PM dinner companion
8 PM wine bottle
9 PM tango
10 PM readying for bed
11 PM bedtime stories
12 PM Midnight Sonata
1 AM confessions
2 AM heavy snores
3 AM morning sex
4 AM driftless sleep
5 AM frenzied fantasies
6 AM rapturous sleep
I will be your