Practicing makeup behind closed doors,
the one night a week I give myself
to slip fully into
my feminine identity.

Longing for a world
where it’s safe to be me,
two souls in one body,
home to two genders,
more than what you see.

Missing the nail polish on my fingertips,
happiness in a bottle
sacrificed to fear, family obligation,
professionalism,
societal expectations,
gender norms.

Misgendered in most situations,
in every restaurant,
by family,
friends,
acquaintances.

Grateful for the precious pockets of fellowship
in my life
where I can breathe
and be seen
and present any way I want to.

Closed off
from so much of my life
because I’m waiting
for I don’t even know what.
Maybe things that will never come.
Maybe things that will never change.
Because it feels like I will never find, create, or shape a world
where it is
safe to be me.