Love Letters

i. There once was a…

girl. No, no, that’s not quite right. Let’s try again. There once was a girl who was a boy who was a girl who was both who was neither.

There once was a child.

The child was buried under so much normal and hate that when they finally dragged themselves out, they didn’t know how their body moved. they didn’t know where it stopped, they didn’t know where it started. Didn’t know how to think, didn’t know how to like

and love

and feel how to be real.

they were drowning in quicksand

They cut their hair and tried on new clothes skin itching and they could never look quite right when they looked in the mirror. This happened for

hours

weeks Minutes

months

Days

Years

seconds

All they wanted to do was to just peel off the skin, just so they could see what was beneath,

to finally know what was beneath

ii. To my love

I once fell in love with a girl

who had all the grace of a baby dear stumbling around on long legs

high on laughter and sass

and maybe just a tad drunk on what was in her bottle

I once fell in love with a girl

that girl was you darling always was

sometimes I wonder if I was allowed to look at you the way I do

with my heart beating fast and eyes wide

I was hearing these things in the media, on the street, at school, in my home

and I thought maybe it was very wrong

to love you the way I did

But then I thought about you wrapped in my sheets

smelling like lavender and oranges while we listened to the pitter-patter of the rain outside

I thought about the carnival where you bought me cotton candy

and I suffered through the Ferris wheel because you held my hand even when I crushed it

and my veins felt like I had five too many shots of espresso

I thought about the summer days trading bouquets of grass and weeds

and us being too sweaty to tangle together

so we lay in front of our separate fans and brushed feet every now and then

I thought about the stupidly annoying bells on your bracelet

and how I loved how they made you laugh when you swung our hands this way and that

I thought about you my dear,

and how could anyone be wrong for loving you? 

iii. How it started

was not a few years earlier

when I got asked what I thought

about the vote for gay marriage.

At that time, my own thoughts were buried under everyone else’s

and I still thought it had nothing

to do with me.

No, it crept up on me when I looked at my friend

and I had to curb my urge to figure out what her hair felt like under my fingertips

and what it would be like to lean into the mischief glinting in her eyes

…

oh

…

And it crashed into me when I had my almost first kiss with a boy

in waves of idontwantthis and thisisntright

where I spent the next 24 hours panicking

and the next three months in denial that it wasn’t working

thinking

this isn’t what love is supposed to feel like.

iv. You say that you love me no matter what

but I have to wonder how far that goes.

Surely, you don’t mean that in a literal sense,

I mean, no one loves someone else unconditionally.

There is always something.

When does it become too much?

When do I become too much?

You already don’t understand when I try to explain myself to you,

you tell me so yourself with disbelief on your tongue

and your head shaking.

But then you say you love me no matter what.

And I think how you’ve basically done everything but write me off

and I can’t help but wonder if you actually love me?

v. Oh, dear Goddess, accept my offering

of death and life, nature and man, greed and selflessness

please take all of it and me

take me and mold me

let me be as everchanging as you

because this skin is not my own

not like the blood that runs beneath it

not in the way it stretches and breaks

not in its stubble and not in its smoothness

oh God, hear my plea, you’ve shaped me in your image

but then you froze my body while my soul continued to flicker and change

please Mother/Father/Parent of All, I’m not asking to be more than what I am

I am just asking to be me

vi. Love me

keep your promise of always

Love me when you don’t understand

but my heart is wrenched open

and blood is pumping onto the floor

ruggedly languidly lazily

Love me and pick me up my heart my bones my mind

puzzle me back together

leave the blood on the floor

Love me when I bring home a bright eyed, soft skin, warm-blood girl

tease me with threats of telling embarrassing stories

to my wonderful, living Beauty

Give me a hug and a kiss and tell me you’re proud of me

not for anything I’ve done but for being me

Love me and don’t let go when I back track back down the black path

despondent cold empty

force my mouth open and shovel

food drink air affection

force me to chew and swallow and hold me down so I don’t throw it all back up

Love me when I inevitably thaw

drive me home but don’t leave me

at least not fully

Love me when I wear skirts

Love me when I wear suits and ties

Love me when I want to show all my skin.

Love me when I want to show none

Love me as your daughter son child

love me as your blood

Love me enough that you don’t care what you call me

to your coworkers your friends your family

Love me enough to not tell me we should keep this from Grampa until it becomes relevant

Love me enough to realize it is always relevant

and that it never is

Love me enough to be proud of me, all of me

Please just be proud of me

vii. To the old me

One day, a cafeteria lady will call you sir while you are wearing a skirt.

One day, just as you were reminding yourself you can’t be genderqueer in the military,

another private will call you they. She’ll apologize but it’ll make your day.

One day, you’ll be flying home and be continually called sir by the flight attendants.

On these days, you’ll laugh from the wonderful high warm buzzing feeling in your veins.

On these days, you’ll walk with a bounce in your step.

Sometimes your skin still itches.

But one day, you won’t want to peel it off and shred it because while you don’t always

know what’s beneath, you are in the process of finding out.

One day, you’ll realize all your softness and all your hard edges,

and you’ll realize that they are not mutually exclusive and learn to love it all.

One day you’ll realize your best supporter of all of you isn’t who you thought it was

and, I’m not going to lie, it’s going to feel like ripping open old wounds,

but you will still have people lifting you up and fighting for all of you.

One day, you won’t be afraid of loving and being loved and you’ll go on a date

with a nice warm soft girl and everyone, and I do mean everyone, will be so excited.

One day, you’ll realize you can feel happiness by yourself and for yourself,

and you’ll fight so damn hard to grasp it in hand and keep it.