Six months ago, when my husband first started to tell me what the hell was going on with him... I had no where to go, no one to speak with... so I went to my physical journal and wrote. However, in the fear that my kids might read it, whether now by curiosity, or later when I'm gone; I wrote in code so that anyone who might get their hands on in, including my husband, could not reach the embarrassing conclusion that he is a closet crossdresser (now identifying as transgender). So, I decided instead to write on my computer.

Instead of just writing what is going on, my words came out in the form of poetry. So I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. Everyday, with every slap of a surprise... I wrote more. I think I have over 75 poems! This has been my self therapy. I've kept them to myself for a while, but now that I have found this site and feel a little more comfortable, I will share a handful with you all.

I hope this helps with some of your expressions too. Let me know what you think. :-) 

The Mistress Within

I wonder if she has a name

I wonder if she’ll have a face

Will she stay and take me over?

Will she wander away

When the sun arises and all is in view?

Will she want to put the cuff on my wrist?

And prance away with her freedom

While I stay and smile through my tears?

Does she even know I exist?

Does she even care if she takes my part
And stands in my shoes?

Does she know how my heart melts

With every cloth that she wears,

Every color that she bares,

With every image that she shares?

How do I matter?

Why should I matter

When she hides in plain sight?

Her extremities hold secrets of sex and of highs

Why would I matter when you have her?

Your mistress within,

But without me.

Bitch In A Skirt

I fester. I stew.

I feel fury and blue. 

I don't want to become bitter.

I don't want her affecting me so. 

I don't want her to have this much power.

She steals it away from me.

Part of me wants to just let this play out.

Another part of me wants to end it all NOW!

It can't get better; it will only get worse.

When do I speak up? 

Should I? If so, will I lose him forever?

She has too much power over my guy.

She lives deep inside and she's snaking out.

He doesn't see the destruction.

He doesn't see the scratches 

The tears he's creating between us. 

All he sees is his own beauty.

Her own beauty. Her guise.

I'm not even in that reflection. 

It's self-absorbed.

It's self-gratifying. 

I'm just a backup plan.

A cover up.

A secondary thought.

Instead of stealing time away with me

She enters his thoughts

Elopes in the night and wakes up with him by day.

She has a strong hold,

She is persistent and bold,

But she is not a real woman like me. 

I'm not just body parts

Extremities or art

I'm the daughter of The King.

A true Princess

Not just in name, but also in spirit,

I am what He's created me to be.

I will not take worth from a bitch in a skirt

Nor will I let him hurt me.