sometimes
it feels less like settling into a new identity
than adapting to a new skin
i wonder
if it’s supposed to feel like this all the time
hanging loose off my bones
the breeze brushing cold against my veins through the places it doesn’t fit right
frost creeping in and caressing my lungs and my heart
shouldn’t it hug my body tight?
fit like i want it to?
straight and tall and clean-cut and thin
soft edges hidden behind folds of fabric
make people confused when they look at me
instead it itches
chafes, unsecured, around my legs and chest and arms and tells me
this skin was not meant for you
sometimes
i feel like a liar
like it would be better to just put on my old skin and my old face
ignore the places where it holds me too tight
and burns against my bones
because that’s easier
and then somebody says my name
and it gets tighter
with every affirming word, gets tailored to the shape of me
with the scratch of markers on my arm, making this skin my own
the snip of scissors in my hair
the words of the music i've memorized so thoroughly it runs in my blood
like zipping up a soft jacket
like someone squeezing my hand
it gets warmer
it feels less like settling into a new identity
than adapting to a new skin
i wonder
if it’s supposed to feel like this all the time
hanging loose off my bones
the breeze brushing cold against my veins through the places it doesn’t fit right
frost creeping in and caressing my lungs and my heart
shouldn’t it hug my body tight?
fit like i want it to?
straight and tall and clean-cut and thin
soft edges hidden behind folds of fabric
make people confused when they look at me
instead it itches
chafes, unsecured, around my legs and chest and arms and tells me
this skin was not meant for you
sometimes
i feel like a liar
like it would be better to just put on my old skin and my old face
ignore the places where it holds me too tight
and burns against my bones
because that’s easier
and then somebody says my name
and it gets tighter
with every affirming word, gets tailored to the shape of me
with the scratch of markers on my arm, making this skin my own
the snip of scissors in my hair
the words of the music i've memorized so thoroughly it runs in my blood
like zipping up a soft jacket
like someone squeezing my hand
it gets warmer
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