Can we start over?
Can we be strangers again?
Let me introduce myself
We can laugh and talk
And relearn what we already know
And come up with new inside jokes
And create new memories
And give each other a second chance
And maybe
Just maybe
Fall in love again?

My freedom, I won’t ever forget my freedom.
For my freedom was hundreds of years in the making, and it’s still being made.
My freedom was in the dreams of all the boys and all the girls that thought they were broken, who damned themselves to hell before God had a chance.
My freedom lived in prison cells, electroshock chairs, mental health registries, therapy couches, death.
My freedom is forged from the ashes of not long forgotten laws and legislation, systematic oppression.
My freedom - founded in riots and rebellion, words and walls that came tumbling down.
My freedom is a basic human right.
My freedom is from the lips of brave, brave people, with tired eyes, stitching banners into the tiny hours.
Throw me a megaphone, my words are my weapon!

My freedom is tainted.
Tainted by Religion and Russia and Republicans.
Tainted, because it’s all so much bigger than two brides or two grooms.
Tainted as long as “gay” is a insult thrown around junior school playgrounds.
Tainted as long as there still is a ‘closet’ - except it never really was a ‘closet’ more of a prison cell.
Tainted whilst hate crime still kicks, and kicks hard.
Tainted whilst too many people die young and unloved and are buried with the wrong names above their heads.
Tainted every night they spend on the street, kicked out by everything, even the charities aren’t so charitable it seems.
The fight isn’t done, give me a computer keyboard - mightier than the sword!

I am not free, until my brothers and sisters and others are free.
I’m not sure when that’ll be.
But it won’t be by chance - i’m pretty sure of that.

—  A poem I wrote titled My Freedom    
The other day I had a dream that I saw you. You were standing in a crowded place and I happened to walk by. I saw you. You were leaning against a wall talking animatedly with someone I did not know and you did not notice me. In my dream I walked up right in front of you and hugged you. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t excuse myself I just walked right up and wrapped my arms around you. And as soon as I did you wrapped your arms around me too. My cheek was pressed to your chest and your chin rested on my head, and we stood there for what felt like an eternity. And in that small eternity I felt it, your warmth, the warmth I haven’t felt in months. I smelled that familiar scent, your cologne, the smell of your skin. It was just us, you and me, for that immeasurable moment in time. And when we let go you smiled at me and I asked you if I was taking you home. And before you could respond, I woke up.
—  M.Soles (Come Home)
You are fire
You are gold
You are the
Cancer
In my bones.
-
You are the
Stories
Made from
Storms
With you,
I’d happily
Grow old.
-
You are the
Hero
That chases
Bad days
Away
Without you,
I wouldn’t last
A single day.
—  caped with love// 31.03.15 
Because of you
I’m no longer cold
Except maybe when you steal the covers
We lay together like only lovers
Can, hand in hand
Our legs intertwined
Much like our futures
I look at you
I see happiness and hope
The promises of the future
Of which we spoke
We’re so young they say.
Good.
I have more years to give to you
Jack London

I used to write you the best poems.
It was enough
to leave them wrapped and folded where you would see.
I’ve always loved making you smile—

It’s easy to get distracted.
So easy,
but I think I’m learning.
Each slip is shorter than the last
each short slipped slightly less.

Learned so much these last years.
Only hope same’s said of you.
I think
                                          maybe

                             I always knew it was better this way.

you were always more empathic than I,
and it was the love-long in your voice
that finaly convinced me anyhow.

Yes,
                         i think

              the children will love you more.

and i have the freedom to try what I’ve always dreamt.
My steps lag long in long for—

I don’t think a time will come when I don’t miss it.
I’ve always loved making you smile.

I wait not for the want,
but the way.
Not long for the lost.
Be bliss.
Yes,
            I like that sound.
Be.

4

Last night I read from Please Light Up for the first time. It was in a bar. Slope Editor Colleen Barry and my roommate Seth Landman read lovely long poems. The incomparable Max Cohen played host. Seth wore a Fab Five shirt. Colleen called the internet a natural disaster. Pizza was served. The Goonies was on. Moon Banana hung on the wall behind us. Thanks to all who came out!

Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.
I just want to be there for you. I want to be able to hold your hand when you’re nervous. I want to be able to hug you really tight when you feel alone. I want to be able to hold you together when you feel like you’re falling apart. I want to be the shoulder you cry on and the person who’s arms you collapse in when your world is crashing down. I want to be the one you go to to seek comfort and advice. I want to be the one who tucks you in at night, makes you breakfast in the morning and reminds you everyday that you’re beautiful, because you are. I want to be the one that you get out of bed for, the one that makes it easier to get through another day. I want to help you get better. I want to help you get through all of this. And, I want you, the good and the bad, all of you.
—  i want you // 9:18
please don’t hate me when I tell you
that I need attention
a lot of it
and I know you tell me that I’ve gotta believe you
that I’m yours and you’re mine
but you have to understand that these silences
are the times I got left behind in the cold
the greater the distance
the less they loved me
slowly they all faded away
and maybe you just don’t have a lot to say all the time
and you tell me I’m always on your mind
but I wasn’t on their minds
and while you’re eating dinner
and folding your laundry
and drinking your wine
and taking a bath
they were busy finding ways to erase me
—  I’m needy because I need to know you’re still here

He is not a fucking miracle. Stop waiting for him to happen. He is not going to change just because you write him down in poetry. Maybe he is another language you haven’t heard about, and you’ve tried to let him play on your tongue but he leaves you with un ugly scar and the taste of loneliness for you to vomit it. And maybe he loves you but he is not your fucking miracle. Do not waste your time praying to God cause he is not the lightning that will hit you in the middle of the night when you crave his hands around your hips. You want him so bad but he is not your fucking miracle.

Miracles do not happen for boys like him.

—  She Slapped Me And Said: He’s Not A Fucking Miracle by Royla Asghar
We are nothing but men made from mud and earth. One day we shall crumble, and to dust we shall return.
—  Origins
You claim to love her, inside and out, but the only time you call her beautiful is when it’s 3 in the morning and I’ve already turned you down.
—  girls tell each other everything, c.j.n.

The last time you hugged me I felt your hand on the back of my head as you pulled me into your chest. I try my best to remember that feeling when I fall asleep at night.

The last time you hugged me I felt your body heat radiate through me. I try to remember how that feels through the cold months that I won’t see you.

The last time you hugged me I felt the impression of your body on me like a stamp. I try my best to remember that feeling against my body every waking moment I miss you.

—  A 60 day love letter

i’m in my prime,
not withering and old.
but i refuse to play
your wicked games any longer.

i know this tether is unbreakable,
but you make me feel like i’m interchangeable.
you drew a target on my heart,
when did this become fatal attraction?

i don’t have the strength,
the energy,
nor the patience
to be held hostage by your love.

so baby please don’t despair
when i say that
i’ve found the courage to
let you go.

you were never meant to be tied down in the first place.

—  believing i could love you was my mistake, c.j.n.
I think you know you love someone when you are in love with them, not the idea of being in love; just the person- themselves fully. You want to be with them on their moody days and saturate yourself with them on their bad days. You don’t care if they are a grumpy over thinker at 11 at night and you don’t care if they are miserable when they wake up. You don’t care if they get excited over something you think is pointless. You love them, so you love what they do. You love them and what they love.
—  A 60 day love letter