We were set to meet at the park 5 minutes to close. I look at my watch, it's 10:50pm. Five minutes to go, and then I'm getting the hell out of here.I am distinctly aware of the odd smell that

It seemed so commonplace, the way we lounged on my futon in the living room, his hands sliding through my hair on occasion while my thumb stroked against his denimed thigh. The night was hot, clear

I awake, scared, confused, as I am cold and wetAlone, writhing in a blanket of snow that was laid out by hands not my own.Damning my home, I manage to wonder as my frozen fingers lift before my face,wondering

Catherine. I would watch her every day, sitting across the room from me in class, ambiguously butch. When I first saw her, I honestly wondered whether she was a female-identifying young man, or if

Lord only knows why, but since the moment I first saw this young man, I\'ve had a desire to experience his hair. Long, waving... For some reason I always envision it wet. Framing his smooth skin

The scars are still fresh, lividly red against the skin of my recently changed body. He hasn't seen these new features, these new things. I worry, I shiver, I stroke my fingers down my scars and