To the man I call dad.

to the man who taught me that masculinity is more complicated than a fighting rage of adrenaline and testosterone, that it can look like holding and loving the caregiver and her children that the men before you left behind in death and wounded masculinity.

to the man, who like magic kept us safe in a world that is violent for me and my siblings. a place that is filled with such hate and destruction you continue to hold our complexities with a yearning to learn and a stumbling, ever-changing  understanding of what its like to be us.

To the man, who showed me what loving a femme looks like and how I should be loved as the femme I am. How you show her such powerful devotion and care coming from a place I didn’t even know existed in men, a place that is soft, a place that is love.

To the man, I will never grow up to be. I am forever grateful to you.

© arielletwist

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