He told me he’s a girl.
He told me he has a new name.
He told me that
the baby boy I cherished, loved, protected… is gone.
The replacement is alien to me… mean, disconnected, punitive.
He told me the name I chose for him is his deadname.
Like my grandfather who I named him for… who was my person…
And now, he says he’s alive, and the same, but it seems… he merely shifted his desired deadness.
To my heart.