To Be a Man

Most days

I am still trying to understand what it means to feel like I am the thing

That I usually hate the most

I have not felt the hands of a man across my body in 18 days

That is to say the last time I wanted to feel a man’s hands across my body was 367 days ago

But I touch myself often

I trace my curves and my lines and each dimple with my fingers

I know they are beautiful

And I wish they weren’t there

On the days I feel soft

I beg for pretty…

Still Boi

Mascara still finds its way from my eyelashes to my upper lip to my chin…

My chest still screams a name I no longer wish to know

The last time I remember feeling as if this body was my own

I was being loved by someone who is no longer my own

And now I wonder

If there is a gender I will ever be able to call my own

I wonder if this voice will ever shape my internal dialogue into

Love

Love

Love

I wonder if this brain will ever stop telling me

Wrong

Wrong

Wrong

I wanna know if honey whiskey can ever be something more than a bottle of Jack

Because I am not Honey

I am always whiskey

I will always catch fire quickly

I think it’s possible that I myself am Dragon Girl

Because I realize I spit flames and refuse to carry an extinguisher

I love myself

But I am burning

I am burning