#scamera poems

[scamera-writes]

Hey love

Hey love,

No more mistakes right?

No more hearing your name at the doctor’s office and stumbling to correct them. No more clumsy signatures as I write your name instead of my own. No more emails to teachers explaining why one form says your name but they need to call me mine.

I think I’ll miss it. I’ll miss hearing your name and seeing how they pronounce it, how they misspell it, how they hesitate before saying it. I’m really going to miss it.

I hated your name for a while, did you know that? I felt like it was an old burden on my back and I know it’s not now but that didn’t stop me from calling it ‘dead’. I think it was societal pressure to label your name as my ‘deadname’ but it really isn’t.

It’s your name, not mine- it never was.

It's not dead, it was just simply misplaced.

Choosing my own name was the hardest thing I’ve done in a long while. It’s not similar to your name in meaning, shape, or feeling. But it’s mine and your name is yours.

I don’t mean to make you sad here, I don’t want to forget your name is what I’m getting at.

I’m going to look back at old yearbooks and smile when I see you, I’m going to whisper your name to the sky when I see the star you represent, I’m going to sing my heart out when a song comes on and your name is in it.

No, wait. I think I did this all wrong. Let me start over.

Dear ---,

I love you. I miss you. That’s all.

Take care,

---

-Hey love (By me)

[scamera-writes]

Inspired by and partner prose to Jamaica Kincaids' Girl

Today is transgender day of remembrance💙 I love you all and please please stay

[scamera-writes]

Reality Lowdown

(content warnings are in tags)

The room I wake up in has shifted 2 degrees to the left The light in the kitchen is a warm glow- it was a cool blue last night The sun rises in the wrong spot The stairs are too close together as I walk

I don’t let my eyes stay in one place too long They dart across rooms, looking for more displacements More to feel wrong about A voice calls me to the next room. I don’t recognize who it is I don’t know where I am

My knuckles crack too loudly My hair is tied up wrong My jacket is too tight in the collar My shoes are too loose My voice is different than I remember it My vision is more blurry than last night My thoughts formulate too fast My hands are responding too slow

My chest feels heavy My eyes glaze over My heart aches My stomach does flips My fingers are chewed- so are my lips My legs go numb

I don’t think anyone can understand it Can truly understand- The way my hands Are detached from my wrists

I stare at faces until I’m certain I’ve seen the person before I don’t think I’ve stared at a mirror for this long before I’ve been staring at a mirror the whole time My skin crawls I feel sick

I will wake up tomorrow unknowing of what it will be The room I wake up in might be shifted 5 degrees to the right Or the light in the kitchen might be blue again My knuckles might not crack at all My voice might not work I don’t know.

Reality has its claws in me The best I can do is lick off the blood

-Reality Lowdown (By me)

[scamera-writes]

the world looks better through your eyes

I’ve started staring out windows more often. Do you notice the casual biker? Do you notice the walker with their earbuds in? Do you notice the couple holding hands and pressing up to each other?

Sometimes I don’t, you can’t see everything. But when I do I am reminded of all the lives we lead Most of us will never interact with each other I will never know their names.

But I will see them. I will think about them. I will wonder what they plan on eating for dinner tonight I will wonder if they go home and call their mom Or maybe they open the door to a lovers arms

I am reminded that we live. I am reminded that we breathe. I am forever reminded that every day- We are surrounded by the mundane beautiful.

The world is beautiful in the smallest ways

I will enjoy myself until the end of time I will smile with my last breath The light in my eyes won’t leave If I have something to say about it

I don’t know what drives me to this passion Maybe it's the way I can see the stars at night Maybe it's the headlights on the freeway Maybe it’s the foliage around me as I walk Maybe it’s just how it’s supposed to be.

I can see that you see it too And when I hold your hand, When I press against your side, When we laugh like no one is watching, I’m aware of the fact that we are living:

In a world of stars, In a world of beauty, In a world of love.

And I’ve found it with you.

-the world looks better through your eyes (By me)

[scamera-writes]

Her. An Essay.

The spring air lies heavy in your lungs as you breathe in deeply, the bright smells assault your nose and waves of nostalgia roll off the hills. You know this is her favorite season so you’ve dressed prepared for the chill in the air.

It's a long walk to the meadow with a shovel in hand and wheelbarrow pushed in front of you, but you do it. When you get there, a girl smiles up at you from where she is playing in the grass.

You know her age, but do not say it. You know her name, but do not say it. You know her, but do not say it.

She says hello in that sweet mellow tone that sounds so foreign yet so similar and tastes like syrup on your tongue. Her eyes are wide and shining, but blissfully not tear stained- like your own- and her cheeks are round with a warm flush as her smile softens.

You do not meet her eyes, those same beautifully colored eyes that match yours, searching for a hint as to what you’re doing here. You gaze across the meadow instead but still catch a glimpse of her blue denim overalls and green shirt.

They match your own in a way.

You finally say hi back and take the shovel to the dirt under a beautifully perfect sycamore tree that arches into the sky; it rises before the two of you, right in the middle of the meadow. The dirt stains your clothes as you drop to your knees, using your hands more than the shovel to dig at the layered earth.

You hear soft footsteps behind you but don’t look up from your work. To your side you see the girl walk up to you again and she places a small flower behind your ear before grinning and moving to lay in the sun near you.

You pluck the flower out from behind your ear to examine it. A white petunia. A wistful familiarity to the flower washes over you and you tuck it back behind your ear before moving back to the freshly unearthed dirt.

You can feel her watching as you dig this pit, you hate the feeling of dirt under your fingernails. The mud cakes on your hands and crackles with every movement; it makes your skin crawl but you don’t give up now. After a small hole is dug, you grab the large stone and tools brought in the wheelbarrow and begin to carve. She sits next to you now, her smaller hands grip a rock in her own palms and she plays with it gently.

You carve a name you didn’t think you’d ever write again into the rock and place it at the top of the pit. She recognizes the name, tips her head smiling gently, and in an understanding manner she stands up.

And walks away. Around the back of the sycamore tree she disappears and then reappears.

She plucks a sycamore leaf off the ground when she´s visible again and looks up as you smile at her. She drops the leaf into the hole you've dug, then helps you repack the layers of sediment that you both know you’ll unearth again, in the future, to be intertwined together in the end.

But not now. Now, the earth is resealed and she smiles sweetly, laying a makeshift bouquet of petunias and poppies with a gentle hand.

You get up and hold a hand out for her, she doesn't look away from the earth you've both just moved and instead runs her hands over the top of the rocks again before sighing with a big smile. She gets up and grabs your hand, it's so much smaller and softer than yours yet you can still feel the dirt on both of your hands.

She grips your hand a little tighter, following your lead as you walk towards home, flower still tucked behind your ear you notice a matching flower behind her own. And you smile.

When you get closer to the house, her eyes are wide with soft recognition, a place so familiar to the both of you yet it feels cold and empty at the same time. You invite her inside again, it's been so long for you both, still the house is like an old friend, in a way. You hold open the door and she steps through.

She walks over to the dinner table and sits down at the far side, gesturing for you to sit on the other but you shake your head politely.

You aren't ready yet.

You ask if she’d like a drink, and she nods. You already know what she would like so you don’t have to wait for her to tell you. Passing over the tall glass with ice clinking in it feels like a ritual. You don't want to let go. You do. You sit down across from her.

You know what's coming next and it's hard. You know you have to accept it. Losing her again won't be easy but you know it's not permanent this time.

She takes small sips of her drink, smiling over to you but neither of you attempt to make small talk anymore, you both know how the interaction will end.

And it's not bittersweet. Neither of you are upset. She is content in a way you don’t think you quite understand yet. But you think you feel complete, whole and peaceful for possibly the first time in your life.

It's enjoyable to watch her glowing eyes look at you with respect and admiration, to be able to grow into what you did makes her heart beat with something adjacent to love.

And as you leave the house, knowing you will be reunited in the end, to be buried in love & hate, happiness & anger, and warmth & heartache. You know it's love. It's always been love.

For her.

-Her. An Essay. (By me)

Happy trans visibility day. This is an ode to the girl I was. We will be buried together in the end. I love you, take care.

[scamera-writes]

a formal apology to all who have met my snarl

im so sorry im sorry i lashed out im sorry i overreacted im sorry you got hurt im sorry you let me get to you. im sorry you were a soft coward who let words hurt you.

Sorry. That was unprofessional.

I’m sincerely sorry. I’m sorry for my previous actions. I’m sorry I was unreasonable. I’m sorry I was a bad person. I’m sorry I hurt you.

actually not really.

I am sorry you met my snarl I am sorry you felt my claws I am sorry you crossed my teeth I am sorry I couldn’t stop the anger

Yeah, I’m sorry for the tears I spilt Yeah, I’m sorry for the blood I spat Yeah, I’m sorry for the acid I bled

I am not sorry for telling the truth. I am not sorry for you.

The red flush in your face The words on the tip of your tongue The air sucked out of the room as I yelled

I am sorry you thought you could push me over I am sorry you believed I was weak I am sorry you assumed I wouldn't fight back I am sorry you got bloody in the process

I am so sorry.

-a formal apology to all who have met my snarl (By me)

[scamera-writes]

Eating Your Love

Contains heavier topics (content warnings in the tags)

I’ve never loved something with half my heart I only love fully, whole-heartedly if you will

I love like jumping off a cliff and not knowing if there is water below. I love like a gun with two barrels and one bullet and laying it in your hands with my eyes closed. I love like sipping at poisoned wine and knowing you have the antidote under your tongue. I love like a knife to my sternum and trusting you to wrap your hands around it.

I will stare into your irises and give you my heart Still warm with love and blood The shades of red mix on our palms And I will leave fingerprints on your cheek

A gift of my undying willingness and trust A sign of my hopefulness and passion A desperate ask for you to place your heart in my hands A wish for a returning love to cradle to my face

We can place them on the table And sit and eat together Sipping at glasses of blood While our hearts pump in synchrony Staining the porcelain red

Your teeth will chip the chalice And I cut my tongue in your mouth. Your lips will spill smoke And I will let my lungs fill with gray ash.

I will leave my chest seeping with blood A gaping hole to my missing organ Sticky and raw flesh, red in my love for you Torn bones cutting your fingers when you touch me

So that when you drop my hand and my heart I can place it back in my rib cage Stitch the wound closed with kisses And wait for another to pour my love out onto

-Eating Your Love (By me)

[scamera-writes]

[wip poem] the citys' song falls on deaf ears

what if i died what if you died what if we all died would you miss me would i miss you would the world miss us i hope you would i hope i would i hope the world would

i hope the world weeps for us i hope the city withers and shrinks back without our love i hope the city wails and their song drives away the life i hope the city wraps up our corpses and holds a burial in our name