"Ringing in my Ears" A poem about being queer & PTSD

 When I close my eyes, I'm there again:

Those who gave me life throw slurs across the room

and they each hit harder and harder until the word

"unlovable"

buckles my knees and sends me falling.

And they haven't hit me in years but

my brain is scarred, forever marred,

with this ringing in my ears.

Or maybe I am there again:

Holding her hands and kissing her lips

but someone sees and chases after, shouting

"dykes"

and the words hit just as hard as before.

And I want to curl up and cry but

we stay on the run, hearts weighing a ton,

and the ringing in my ears.

Now I am offered an explanation:

Sitting in this chair

box of tissues on the table

"PTSD"

and somehow this word acts as a shield.

And sometimes I think it's crazy but

just as many people face battles so have I,

all the pain and the ringing in my ears.

When I open my eyes, I'm here again:

Fiancée by my side

they remind me

"I love you."

and for a moment I am healed.

We speak of queer, we speak of crip,

their intersection and how it emits--

They show themselves in me.