Her name was Emma.
That’s what everyone called her, anyways. Sometimes they would call her Em, sometimes someone would slip up and call her Emily. She was a part of our group of girlfriends growing up in a large town, not quite big enough to be a city but big enough that there was still privacy between neighbors.
We called ourselves the “Unbreakable Six,” because there was me, Summer, Mel, Nina, and Jules.
And there was Emma.
Oh wow.. this was great!
You told me you loved me on our third date
and I should have run back home in the pouring rain
but you had a car
and your words were much warmer than the outside air.
The second time we slept together
my first “I love you” somehow slipped out
like the blood from the scratches on your back.
I got hooked to the sex,
You got hooked to the “I love yous.”
I think the worst part about this all is that I do love you
I just didn’t know what to do other than break your heart.
I guess I had shattered myself so many times,
it felt nice to tear someone else apart.
Here’s to the transguys who have problems binding because of the size of their chest
Here’s to the transguys who can’t get a binder because of their parents
Here’s to the transguys who can’t get a binder because of money issues
Here’s to the transguys having any binding problems and suffer from chest dysphoria. You are all troopers.
Here’s to transwomen who can’t find binders because of money issues
Who are shamed by their family and cannot express themselves as such
Who need our respect as well