first date

i became the only boy

that i wanted to take

my shirt off for

step out of my pants

without falling over

and pull my socks off

one by one

i don’t really know

how this whole thing works

but it seems like dinner

would happen first

maybe i’d bring flowers

say how handsome i look outloud

and mean it

if i still had to wear a bra

i would buy a nice one first

splurge on something more

substantial than a sports bra

maybe something with

an underwire and little ribbons

show that part of me some love

and i would be slow about it

run my hands over this body

that dysphoria has always kept

me from exploring

with my own flesh against flesh

take the time to learn

all the curves and edges

of this vessel that has never

really felt like home

always too tight around

certain parts and too loose

in others

but that wouldn’t matter

because i would be a gentleman

and do this with the lights on

pull my shirt off

in a way that wasn’t rushed

and begging to be put back on

right after it would hit the floor

at my feet

and my knees wouldn’t shake

mapping out the parts of myself

i always wanted to cut off

and my breath wouldn’t falter

but go out easier than it had

in years

because i am the only boy

i ever wanted to take

my shirt off for

and i deserve to feel beautiful

and handsome

and fragile in some parts

because i am still here

dammit

i am still here