scotch broom soliloquy

it’s not that i hate

the girl i (maybe)

used to be

i just never wanted

to be her

and there were no

instructions for me to follow

on how to pretend 

to be like the other girls

how to wear skirts,

dresses, long hair in braids,

how not to flinch when

called my mother’s daughter

and the way that the pretty girl

with the long brown hair

saving a seat on the bus for me

made me feel like my heart

was in my throat and beating

its way out of my chest

all at the same time?

how was i supposed to handle that?

wanting to hold this girls hand,

and being almost overwhelmed with

joy when she actually let me

and the first boy i kissed

told me i was a pretty girl,

and it made me want to puke

and when i was able

to fix all that with testosterone

and top surgery and not even

bleeding when i shaved for the first time,

can you blame me for wanting 

to forget that i ever was her?

i just didn’t know how to

miss someone i never wanted to be,

how to grieve for this girl

that always felt so wrong

in her own skin

and while i still can’t

remember her as fondly

as i might one day be able to,

i love that girl

i love that girl,

holding a bouquet of bright yellow

scotch broom, with messy braids

and the holes in the knees

of her jeans