Poetry of the Damned

Don't Ask...I'll Be Fine

This is not necessarily a poem but rather a random rant in a way. This is also a coming out in a way. I'm tempted to send it to him....just for him to know.

Don't worry, I'll be fine...someday. I'll repair myself. I'll make sure I'm OK. Cause in the end, it doesn't matter what I do or who I love, I will always....always be alone.

It will always be me against the world. I will always fight battles on my own. Nobody will ever love me the way I wanted them to. I am never good enough for anyone.

That is fact.

I am broken, I am damaged, but alas I am healing. No one may like the way I fixed myself but it is the way I had to do it to bring myself back to function.

I'm in love with someone who couldn't even open a fucking eye to notice. Because I don't have a split between my legs I'm not good enough. The fact that my body betrayed me with an appendage rather than an orifice. The fact that I was not blessed with breasts.

It doesn't matter how much I love this person, or how many times I've been there for them, none of that matters now.

It all comes down to the fact that they cannot see themselves as a faggot, as a queer, as a homo, as a dick lick, fudge packer, as a sissy, none of that. They cannot turn blind eye to the fact that they can't love someone who has been by their side since the day we met. Since I laid eyes on them. That has defended them to anyone and everyone!

But in all reality, it really just boils down to....me not being good enough....for them or anyone else.

I don't even deserve to matter. I told myself and everyone else I would get over this and move past it but at night when I'm alone, when the darkness settles in and the voices begin to consume me. This...HE is the only person I can think about. Sure, I think about them all the time but at night is when I realize I will forever just crave one more touch, one more look into those golden honey eyes, one more breath against my neck as he hugs me, touch against my skin as he fights with me like a brother, one more all night drive, one more hand hold, just one more of everything.

That brings me back to the fact that I am hopelessly, madly, deeply in love with someone so unattainable that it'd be like a farmer hoping to grown crops on the moon.

Little does he know, nor will ever know, that I am but a woman trapped in a man's body. I am Donna. I am me.