“Ophelia”
femininity the existence
or femininity the institution
which do I oppose?
existing in my natural state
is to be subpar.
unladylike.
masculine.
no wonder I would want to be rid of the whole,
but the latter question remains.
I don’t have an answer.
I love my body but intrinsically don’t
as all girls are trained
to love their bodies when men do
and men love what they love.
the bitter taste on my tongue…
but what makes a woman a woman?
and what could make me not?
setting women up for a lifetime of use
and discard.
to place their value on desire
the red of her lip, the curve in her hip
the way the volume of her chest attracts more
that the words of a woman ever could.
and I want to answer there is something more.
an essence of an essence,
quintessential othering
“be true to yourself” mantra
I followed from birth.
I want to say I knew I was different from the other girls
when I was five and liked science
but girls like science.
or when I was fourteen and hated my chest
but truthfully?
for a while I thought it was all I was worth.
and sometimes I fear all my love is narcissistic.
that my love of men is love
of who I wish I was
and my love of women is fetishized envy
love of those who effortlessly embody what I struggle
to perform.
but not entirely.
there are moments in the dead of night
and the break of dawn
when someone is being unequivocally
themselves.
that is what I love the most
the one thing I know
I can never be.
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