Trans Day of Anger

Anger because
the facial hair keeps growing.
The HRT appointment still weeks away.
The snowfall keeps me from my lover.

But the lovers exist, do they not?
Reason for joy in its own.

Until then I will
hug my pillow tight,
cry into it softly as though it were your chest.

I will
study the freckles on your hips,
train my voice to emulate yours
so I can always hear you say “I love you”.

I will, one day, marry you.
Perhaps soon I will see you at once,
hug you tightly,
wrap my arms around you
and never let go.

Until then, I will not let my rage fester.
I will go out into the streets,
fight for you and your safety,
I will do everything it takes
to shield you from that pain.

We will grow immortal together as we rise,
as Gods never grow old;
they merely grow up.

You in your human body,
and me in my human form.

Anger that the world
kept us from each other this long.

Anger that I’m not in your arms every night.

Anger that you’re not here.
Anger that you are not here.