Days when I am resentfully pulled from dreams of a body I feel at home in.
Days when blood gushes from between my legs bringing me to my knees with the heavy reminder of what I will never forget.
Days when I feel sure.
Days when I have no idea.

And the Days go by

Days when I long for a deeper voice and a flatter chest.
Days when I almost feel normal.
Days when I run from the invasive and demanding glares of strangers.
Days when I bind my chest, seeking to pass as something… something…

Something I try to name, as the Days go by

Days when I feel affirmed and loved.
Days when I can’t imagine why anyone in the world cares for me.
Days when I think I’m making it all up.
Days when I wish there was an easier way.

As the Days go by, I learn to live in flux, accepting the lack of an answer. I learn to hope for

Days when I feel like I’ve lived.
Days when I am gentle with myself.
Days when I get to be in the arms and eyes of those who love me, all of me.
Days when I don’t feel like a stranger in my own head.

And the Days go by.


Soothed into waking,By your warmth and softness.
Entering your gravitational pull,
I feel you breathe.

Every contour of your body,
Filled with mine.
A smile sneaks across my face.
Good Morning.

You lightly kiss my head,
Your chin between my neck and shoulder.

Pull me closer,
Never let me go.


I pull my boxers over my more-than-narrow hips
I squeeze into a sports bra a size or two too small
Most of my wardrobe is wearing thin in the same spots
Reminding me that these clothes were not made with this body in mind
Reminding me that I’m not a she,
Not quite a he,
Close to a they,
Me: non-binary,
Trans* with an asterisk,
Please call me Lane.
At home in this name but never called this name at home,
There it’s a secret I wish I could tell.
How do I answer my mom when she asks:
Do you hate me so much that you’ve even thrown away the name I gave you?
No mom, I don’t hate you. I just don’t feel like that name fits.
The line goes dead, does not compute, no one is home right now, try calling back later.

Called sir by a stranger.
Here comes awkward apology.
I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’re a…
How dare my gender be confusing

Adjusting my tie under my collar,
I see you grope my chest with your eyes,
Searching for answers.
I slouch a little more, cursing myself for neglecting to wear a binder.

But I’m lucky.
Lucky because when I come home,
Home to the arms of my community, my chosen family,
My name is celebrated,
My presentation applauded,
My pronouns respected.
This is home.
This is warmth.
This is love.



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