and also sometimes the song is a person
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thaumatropia.bsky.social
and also sometimes the song is a person
@thaumatropia.bsky.social
440 followers 320 following 5.8K posts
She/Fae | Poet/Writer/Performer | Girlfag | Sex Hair + Glitter | Moonlight Kintsugi | Truth + Beauty, Inseparably | Hoping They Find Shore | Incorrigible Flirt | Goddess of Small Comforts | You’re doing great, sweetie | 🏳️‍⚧️🌙✨💙

📖 @ Moist, TRANS MAG
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thaumatropia.bsky.social
🥺🥺
the same cat from earlier, still sleeping, paw stretched out and resting on Bridget’s hand
November 29, 2025 at 1:40 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
babey
a brown and white cat, laying on a warm fleece blanket with floral patterns. she’s sleeping, resting her head on one of her front paws
November 29, 2025 at 1:28 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
it’s porridge szn girlies
a bowl of porridge with butter melting on top. besides it, a small plate with crusty toast, a salt cellar, a glass of orange juice, a spoon, and a napkin. further in the background, a copy of YOU BETTER BE LIGHTNING by Andrea Gibson
November 28, 2025 at 5:14 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
trying
Bridget; blue sweater dress, globe pendant, tiddies, glitter
November 28, 2025 at 2:00 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
happy thursday
the pie and the piewife after J.R.R. Tolkein When dough unfolds in butter glaze within the Pyrex glass And toasted spices' fragrant airs disprove all haughty sass When apples from a thousand orchards yield their captured juice Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my pie seduced When fall is come to shore and vale and chill doth grip us tight When sun retires earlier and we are robbed of light When surplus dreams of summer sweet have all their lies laid bare I'll linger here, and will not come, because my pie is fair When winter 'lights upon the throne and calls us all to rest Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my pie is best
November 27, 2025 at 11:11 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
pulling this one out of a transition timeline post because I can be cute sometimes
Bridget; blue and green hair, makeup, black and green dress, chainlink sub collar, glitter. mugging for the camera a little because this selfie was sent to someone she was about to meet for a date
November 27, 2025 at 10:06 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
the difference between a memory and a story

the story always knows it’s real
November 27, 2025 at 5:22 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
which is to say,
everything I am was someone else's idea everything you are is everything I used to want the part of me that's reaching for your hand felt the most like me either way I can't hold on the arch of my back still remembers you the rest of me, begging to forget the future, like all broken promises shines brighter in your eyes than it ever does in the world you promised me an imagined future where I'm always glad to be alive I still hate you for it I still miss you for it the difference between a memory and a story the story always knows it's real the thing they have in common is that everything dies someday, before the end of it you'll look at me and forget what you were going to say
November 27, 2025 at 4:48 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
ten years

(technically fourteen; 2012-16 has a dearth of selfies)
Bridget; pre-transition, pink hair, depression beard, plinth hat (don’t ask), graphic tee, roiling “please do not perceive me” expression. standing next to a butch femme in a tux. Bridget; blue and green hair, makeup, black and green dress, chainlink sub collar, glitter. mugging for the camera a little because this selfie was sent to someone she was about to meet for a date
November 26, 2025 at 5:24 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
good morning to the sunrises we never get to see
lake michigan, seen from a car on DLSD, obscured by trees and fencing
November 26, 2025 at 1:51 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
wip from last night
you can't bring yourself to ask why you're never the exhale why they all held their breath rather than say your name pretending at cyber-hearts in Novembers you can no longer remember but enough about the good-enough let's all become modernaires
November 25, 2025 at 7:10 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
#smallpoemsunday
after: burial we told each other such soft things in those sweet days (none of them were true) the one I still wished was true "you don't have to be alone"
November 23, 2025 at 5:26 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
guess I’m doing open mic on bsky
November 22, 2025 at 12:25 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
a bird will, as building materials go, always prefer moonlight
Bridget; torn band tee, trefoil, headphones, washed in green light, was obviously crying
November 21, 2025 at 4:07 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
for all the good it does me now
the thing you don't see is the thing you can't remember and it's all gone now, except for the last letter you'll ever write to me / left on the park bench; soaked in the rain, but not yet taken by the birds / everything we are gets left somewhere along the way / sometimes the birds need it more than we do / nests have been feathered with much more vulgar things / than our unspoken wants, our unrequited crushes, our college majors / tailored for ambitions we'll end up leaving on the gas station counter / a bird will, as building materials go, always prefer moonlight / for want of that, the things we didn't say the first time we made love / will serve in a pinch. the time we almost / broke up, the day we try not to talk about, is about as "store bought is fine" / as these things get / the other letter is safe and dry / you drop it in the mailbox at the end of the park / it'll find its way back to you in a few days / the you that lives in your house in the future / will open it, and it will tell you exactly what you needed / to hear after I left, some November Saturday / that you can no longer remember / you weren't wrong to want it
November 21, 2025 at 3:55 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
andrea (still)
My therapist, who I can never go a day without quoting, has a theory about love. She says often we are believing a lie when we believe time is what helps us see each other more clearly. Says to consider the opposite might be true. Consider the beginning might actually be when our hearts have perfect vision.
November 19, 2025 at 6:42 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
new shit (new shiiiiit)
November 18, 2025 at 6:31 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
wip
everyone is dancing and I can't sleep everything you ever wanted started as someone else's idea / it doesn't feel like it's over / but maybe there's a tornado in you / that will rip you apart / before it ever gets to me / and maybe someday / I'll learn to stop saying "I was worried about you" when I really mean "I miss you" / for all the good it does me now / some people are a home / you'll need to run away from, again and again / and still / everything with you is / a broken sonnet
November 18, 2025 at 4:14 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
we love seeing sleepy girls in pajamas
Bridget; diy’d band tee, trefoil pendant half-obscured, floof
November 17, 2025 at 4:28 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
andrea gibson #smallpoemsunday
WHAT CAN'T BE TAKEN Trauma was not being able to get the hands of the clock off me. Healing was learning no one has ever laid a fingerprint on the part of me that's infinite.
November 16, 2025 at 6:02 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
✨
Bridget; dark blue dress, glass ball pendant nestled in cleavage, choker
November 16, 2025 at 6:35 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
sexy sneaky preview of the new piece i’m reading next month
you don't make it through the ice storm because you're strong / you make it through the ice storm because you won some games of hide-n-seek / with other sad and broken queers / and you just kept playing until one night / when you're all eating soup together / and you say how lucky you are that we all found each other / I don't say I love my friends because sometimes they fuck me stupid / I say I love my friends because I want to eat soup with them for the rest of my life / and I want the rest of my life to be so long that I get bored with it / but I keep doing it because have you seen the alternative?
November 16, 2025 at 6:09 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
lookit!!
four round loaves of bread, nestled in wax paper wrappings, on a crowded kitchen counter
November 15, 2025 at 6:57 PM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
moral of the story: sometimes writing form poems will get you laid
November 15, 2025 at 6:56 AM
thaumatropia.bsky.social
did a poeting
Bridget; purple sun and moon dress, chalcedony pendant, choker
November 15, 2025 at 2:51 AM