On Gender and Not Looking Back

Womanhood was the thing that no one wanted.
And it waited patiently behind me
as I found myself outside of expectation.

The rivering – when I became water to flow through the bad –
happened to a woman -before who I am–,
does she not matter?
Did I forget her body while Her horrors are my present?
2013 to 2015, ink and cloth can transform your corpse
but not your being.

Sometimes I feel I am two people, with very different hearts,
trying to coexist with the same body.
When one is satiated, the other aches.
I lived a life outside womanhood and she waits for me, still.
I am worn. I do not know if my birthplace is the same as my home.

I wonder, does everyone else grieve (for themselves)?

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