Will You Marry Me?

Here we are, my love.

I have set the small round table –

One candle and a pot plant with a card that reads:

P.S. I hope all your dates fail.

The night is perfect, the small fire we made has grown

The waves are still tonight and its grandeur does not frighten me.


There are more terrifying possibilities.

There’s a three-part ring in my shirt pocket and I can’t stop shaking.

“Can you believe it’s been three years?”

Cupid crushes my right knee and I pray to the gods that I say it all right.

“Will you marry me?”

” I know you don’t believe in this – I just want you to believe in me.”

“I love you, will you grow grey with me?”

But the ocean and your scent are all in my head

There’s only toothpaste smell around us and I can barely breathe.

There’s still a three-piece ring in my shirt pocket

But we didn’t make it to three years.

Your tooth-brush will be going back home with you;

and you will never know that every time we brushed our teeth I imagined myself on that giant rock at the beach – asking for eternity with you,

as many times as it took for you to say yes.


To The Man With Winter In His Hair

This evening I sit upright at the humble desk in my sister’s office.

Keeping good posture seems colossally easier ;

now that Atlas is no longer a title I cling to.


I hold a silver pen in my palm;

it writes my sadness on the lips that press against its cold exterior.

Cold…though not lifeless.

I remember the fingers that placed it on my notebook –

they belong to a man who towered over me like a titan;

sounds like one too – with winter in his hair and an embrace I find myself missing on evenings when a neighbor’s kitchen greets me with memories of slow-cooked chicken.

He wasn’t my father –

even if I wished he would be someone I could feel safe being around,

and for a time…

He was.


The visualization of his hands places a plum in my throat;

A karmic gift for hurting his kin;

Atlas is lurking around the bend of my conscience:

To have loved so infinitely

To have caused pain in much the same way.


Tomorrow I will build a box for this pen,

I will wrap the pen in linen and immortalize its past,

glorious life.

Perhaps the steel body will remind me –

That winter;

warms hearts when seeing the man who wears it;

smile at his daughter.


The Journey Back Home

In 2007, I experienced heartbreak for the first time. I was seventeen years old… and had just been dumped by my very first girlfriend.

I was shattered for two reasons.

1. I had never loved someone in that sort of way before.

2. I had been physically assaulted by a stranger on that very same day… (it wasn’t the first time I was assaulted… though it was the first time being old enough to understand what was being done to me).

Luckily for me ; my mom (who didn’t know I was gay at that point) was at work… so I got to scream and cry and throw things all on my own. I had never felt more empty or repulsive than I did on that day.

I needed to be stronger than I was because I felt like I could not tell anyone about what had happened to me while I was waiting at the bus stop that afternoon. I also couldn’t allow myself to think about it so I took that pain and made it part of my heartbreak.

The next day I told a good friend of mine about the assault because I was afraid of falling pregnant at such a young age and with a baby I would probably never be able to love.

She took me to the hospital… paid for my consultation and medication. The nurse on duty questioned me… it felt more like cross examination- and when I refused to let her touch me in order to “examine” me – both her and my friend decided I was making this all up. I didn’t care… I just wanted the pills to make sure nothing went wrong.

After the hospital we went to a house party… at that point I felt sick from the medication- only one friend remained with me; Danielle. She soothed me until the pain went away. Until my mind stopped racing and I could function again… later that evening we all got into a group sex type situation … needless to stay the friend who took me to the doctor was furious… saying things like,” no person who was just assaulted would even think of sex so soon thereafter.”

What she didn’t get is that I absolutely needed it in order to replace the feeling of a stranger with the feeling of people who care about me. That night ended up being one of the most beautiful nights for me because it ended with me being in the embrace of a girl I had secretly liked for so long… and her singing voice… man I was smitten.

I didn’t think that it had affected me in any way. Until 12 years later.

Because I felt so completely worthless – subconsciously I decided that I needed to be someone else. Someone completely different. Stronger – more capable of being cold, of walking away ; of taking life’s hits with ease and without being affected by them.

I walked away from myself.

Within a few weeks I had cut my hair, changed my wardrobe … and my friendship circle.

I got a new job, and a new girlfriend within weeks.

So my vicious cycle began… for the past 12 years it has been repeating itself over and over and over again.

Each time taking me further and further away from myself.

I changed religions more times than I can count. The same friend who paid for my consultation had a born again brother who pretty much bullied me into Christianity – I was Wiccan at the time and had been for years.

I also hadn’t realized how much damage that caused for me too… I gave into their speaking in tongues… let them believe I was possessed… anything just to keep them and myself from thinking about the things that were actually hurting me.

My relationships weren’t long lasting… and I never understood why; until today.

In the time between… I lost my father, got engaged to a boy… I then cheated on him with a girl (surprise, surprise) , he passed away too. I was kicked out of home for being gay… got addicted to drugs – got myself clean by flying myself back home to Bulgaria. Fell in love with a straight woman – allowed her to use me for her own endeavors… got myself arrested and attempted suicide three times (not necessarily in that order) oh and I fell in and out of Christianity until very recently.

Today is my birthday.

I am turning 29.

Last year I lost my best friend and the person that I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with because I was dishonest with her.

I was dishonest with her because being honest would have meant that I’d be face to face with myself and I guess… I wasn’t ready.

In 2016 I came out as non-binary trans. Which meant that I no longer identified as being female. I felt as though I was just a useless ball of mass with a pulse… how could I ever expect someone to love me?

My ex partner was amazing. She saved my life more times than I can remember. She gave me a home, a bond like I’d never experienced it before and a taste of what it would be like to have a family of my own. I don’t think I ever really told her that until after we broke up… until after I broke up with her.

Looking back I realize that I was completely awful to her while all she ever did was care for me and try to help me in any and every way she possibly could and I can’t express just how much I miss my best friend. She also accepted my coming out without thinking twice about it.

She was perfect!

On the other hand I was petrified… the more I loved her and the more she did for me – the fear grew and consumed me; even without signs of an ending I was already counting down the minutes to losing her.

Oh boy, and I did lose her in the end; by my own doing.

Early last year I moved out of our home which at that point had moved to her parents’ . I didn’t know how I was going to survive the break up… so I did what I had learned to do best –

I avoided it.

I pretended like I didn’t care…

I drank and partied and had sex and it was a loop… I even got in a short term relationship about which I was very vocal on social media – subconsciously probably trying to get a reaction out of my ex.

I fell in love with (or so I thought) two girls who are exes and also really good friends… recipe for disaster and I made a huge mess of that. Maybe they played with me but either way it has all been messy.

I won’t even get into losing my dog.

About a month ago… after watching something exciting… I started reading again. The topic was Theosophy. It was very interesting to me and before I knew it – I was at Wicca’s doorstep once more.

I was at a closed door to myself.

So I took the first step and knocked on it and was relieved to find myself excited to spend time with the real me again. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t pretty. I started falling apart ; I was drowning in all the unresolved trauma… but I came out in the end… and I could see that proud, strong woman extending a hand to this creature I had become.

Today, instead of hating my birthday – I will be celebrating it.

Today I reclaim my womanhood, my strength, my potential, heart, soul, power and being.

I say, “Thank you!”

To the woman who never gave up on me – no matter how often I gave up on her.

Now is the time to learn, let go and love… endlessly and selfishly – because I do deserve to be happy.

So do you … whoever you are – I hope you arrive at your own doorstep… and I hope you will receive yourself with love and grace.

Bright Blessings :


Le Anatomie Illusoire

You speak of playing with pebbles

your perfect fingers stroking their glassy exterior until calm.

I imagine my body shrinking to a blue crystal size

being transferred from index to middle…

from middle to wedding-

the way I sometimes imagine you pressing piano keys.



My hand wanders along the edges of my most confusing body parts.

Skin cold and firming,

though soft with the gentle brush of ungroomed, stray hairs.

I don’t feel like a woman though I am made of more femininity than I know what to do with.


What questions have I not tried etching out of my skin;

out of my deepest peace and pieces

until shuddering explodes through the innermost in…


These muscles and tissues –

of what use are they without enough brain for ideas?

Is Brain worth much without Soul for direction?

Am I a perfectly balanced confliction?

Or do I yearn to be lady enough

to be the pebble in your palm?