Bittersweet Tapestry
by Cayeleen Caulfield
Once, a thread bound our souls as one,
woven from the thrill of stolen glances, a delicate bond, shimmering like sequins on satin.
Suddenly snapped by the weight of the fabric of society.
Years slipped by like falling stitches,
her taste now a distant flush,
yet still it lingered... haunting.
I watched her new love unfold, raw and relentless,
my heart swollen with pride, yet heavy with sadness.
Her joy, a bittersweet melody I dared not hum.
Starved and suffocated the seams of silence stitched my aspirations
and the remnants of love crafted a life unbound by expectation.
Only a vibrant thread remained,
waiting for the moment to break free.. liberation.
I unravelled myself, thread by thread,
the tapestry of the past, once woven tight,
revealing the colours of my true self,
a spectrum of love, bold,... bright.
Trans kids grow up
by Harley Mackingham
Some tears burn like acid
through my cheeks
Stained sadness forever
Embedded in my skin
Some tears sting the corners
Like a papercut
A simple sadness
A solitary weep
Some feel like a rush
A release
Rain during a heatwave
A warm cup on a cold day
Some feel like
nothing
Empty
Like inside
And some tears
Well they blaze across the sky
Streaking trails form a shining path
A thousand creations from one swift movement
A water droplet to a watercolour
A lifetime of pain to a child
Queer Joy
By Rona Hunt
there is magic in this.
eyes locked on the dance floor, bodies slick with sweat,
windows fogged, beads dripping on the mirror glass,
my laugh, her touch,
all encompassing but not intense,
it is light, I feel impossibly light
transcendent joy covers over me,
wraps me up, so that
even when I step into the night air,
even when the rain begins to fall,
even when I never see her again,
nothing else feels like this,
it isn’t just more, it is a different beast entirely.
The Door
By Juju
Coming out was like opening a door.
That door had been previously bolted, painted over in a ‘landlord special’ kind of way– when you can tell someone tried really hard to hide something by making it blend in.
But did it so poorly.
That door was meant to be peeled off layer by layer.
I thought what hid behind was my true way of loving.
And that’s partly correct.
She did wait there with love notes and 3 a.m cooking to feed my hunger in more ways than one.
She waited with matching outfits and falling asleep while FaceTiming and love I never knew I could feel.
But she wasn’t there alone.
A whole welcoming party had gathered on the other side of fear.
Day by day they introduced themselves to me.
My own reflection came first. They asked me questions ‘Who have we kept this long hair for?’
And when I couldn’t lie that it was for us anymore, they asked me to cut it all off.
And I did.
Split end(ing)s.
I have also met others like me on the sunny side of the door.
They showed up weirdly lounging on comfy chairs - none of them knew how to sit. Must be a queer thing.
These strangers eager to lend a hand quicker than your own blood might.
They made a home in me.
As I stumbled my way further, I was welcomed in safe spaces.
I danced in clubs to Chappel Roan until my t- shirt was stuck to my back, I sang to the Pop Queens like I was lip syncing for my life.
What do you mean there are places I can have fun without feeling a threat?
It’s been nice to come home to myself.
For a while now I’ve been keeping the blinds open too-
I really don’t mind anymore if you see what’s inside.
Never Regret (or..........Mother Said)
by Bea O’Sullivan
A gift freely given
A return unexpected
Though hoped for nonetheless
A gift freely given
Should not a sorrow evoke
The gift of love is free to give
Its own return enough