DEADNAME

BY PETER VILLAFAÑE

It’s not a deadname.

As much as my younger self

wanted to die

I can’t let him

Because I can’t live without him.

He needs to be able to see himself now

That birthdays are actually about life

And his skin is healed and feels right.

He is still in progress but every slight

Imperfection is a speck of dust in the light.

Thinking of the future doesn’t give him a fright

Because he knows it is bright.

The boy of his dreams Is in the mirror in sight.

He doesn’t have to fight to be alive

Because heavy shoulders grew wings and

Took flight.

He doesn’t freeze up his spirit

He uses it to write.

“I will,”

“I am,”

Came from “I might.”

The bridges burned lit the way and

The fire in his heart is always alight.

He’s alright.