Transition (Page 2)

The side profile of a woman, covered in gold paint makeup, she has her index finger held up in front of her pursed lips, displaying the universally recognized sign, 'Hush!'

Don’t tell anyone.
They can’t know about you,
that you’re different,
weird, unacceptable, unforgivable.

Don’t tell anyone.
They might think it was my fault.

[continue]. . .

burning orange candles close up (Image: Ivan Kmit)

We are still unable to protect ourselves
and our trans siblings from the destructive power of propaganda, bigotry, hatred, and violence that are still part
of daily life for marginalized communities around the world.

[continue]. . .

A close-up of a dust-covered, dirty computer keyboard.

My mom used to write letters at the end of each year, to keep friends and family up to date on the happenings in our family.

I hadn’t written any poetry in a while. So, in the middle of the night, I wrote a little update letter of my own.

[continue]. . .

Library reading room. Empty wooden swivel chair at wooden library table with book open on the table. Glasses on top of book. Wooden bookcases with blurred bindings of colorful books behind table and chair. A steak knife lies on the floor nearby.

TW: Suicide

I feel my chest heave as I walk through the kitchen.
Heavy breath, warm and wet.
My pace deliberate, pronounced.

Cold steel grazes my neck, awakening memories.

[continue]. . .