Imagine growing up faster than you wanted to,
but also only seeing the world from one side.
The lenses were not rosetinted
I knew the world was not rainbows and sunshine.
It was the color of confusion.
Having feelings that religion told me I would go to hell for,
And those who judge have no issues throwing stones.
Later on I found out that women who like women was actually a thing. Go figure.
So since I appeared to be a woman — I put that label on myself.
It seemed to fit, like a shirt that feels comfortable when you try it on but not so when you wear it out.
I got comfortable not being comfortable.
No one seemed to know.
I didn’t know.
This went on for years with womencoming and going, one after the other
I felt disconnected, using them to satisfy a need whatever that need may have been.
I retired from being okay with what I saw when they considered me attractive.
I called it dressing up the ugly.
Not just my physical but my ego, my soul.
Labels are boxes.
They are cages,
or jail cells
where you can see everything going on around you…
but you are stuck.
You put yourself in this place you don’t seem to have a key to let yourself out of.
My poetry was my escape.
It took me to a place where I was exactly who I was supposed to be.
My poetry knew me, it spelled it all out, I was too deaf, dumb and blind to get it.
I didn’t have that revelation until several years later…
To Be Continued.