i wear dresses and skirts that conceal me in fabric when i twirl.

i love flowers and pastels

i spend half of my morning putting on makeup

and the other half doing my hair

and i am a boy.

 

 

it may not look like it

because of my pink cardigan and my long eyelashes

breasts that i try so hard to bind

but its breaking my ribs, my heart

but i am a boy.

 

 

i look in the mirror

i see a round jaw and eyes

features that should be chiseled out of stone

but i am without hard edges

am i a boy?

 

 

my mother still calls me her babygirl

believing the first words used to confine me

people call me her son

no, this is my daughter

but i am her boy.

 

 

to the private eye, my appearance makes me a girl

to the kid in algebra, skirts and pink make me a girl

to my parents, my tears make me a girl

to my cashier at the grocery, i am a girl

but i have always been a boy.