Saturday, 4:51 a.m.


and
oh shit
I say to myself;
how the hell do I be a femme?
and I recognize (thanks Ben)
that is really is about control
and I don't know what to do:

all the years I told myself
I could never yield
I was more afraid of looking bad,
never knowing what to do -

complicated (never mind)
by the search for a man
who could never be
the woman my heart was looking for -

now she has given me
flowers and food;
the ritual done, I realize
what I want to say,
but I'm still afraid,
and I don't know what to do.


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