Not a Girl

There’s too much flesh.

Isn’t that weird?

In the past they’ve never bothered me

But now

I don’t like my boobs.

They’re too much.

My name pricks needles into my skin

My hair’s too long

Make it shorter 

Shorter

Shorter

Shorter

But this is wrong.

Why do I feel like this?

Trans?

I’m not a boy. 

But there’s nothing else

So I’m a girl.

.

.

There is something else?

Prophet and apostles tell me no

So that’s it

But…

I can’t do this

I’m not a girl.

I’m just not

My name drives daggers through my skin

I don’t want makeup

I don’t want to paint my nails

I don’t want a spa day

I don’t like cutesy

I don’t like frilly

Stop assuming

Stop assuming 

Stop assuming

I’m not a girl.

I might’ve been crazy

But I’m not now

And I’m not a girl.

But I’m not a boy

So what am I?

I’m A.

Agender.

I don’t want to tell you

I don’t feel like talking about it

It’s just a label

It’s still me.

I’m not a girl

That’s it.

I’m not doing drugs

I’m not turning away from the church

I’m not pregnant

I’m just not a girl.

Never have been

Just didn’t know

There was ever a name for it.

I don’t know where to go

What to do from here.

E knows 

And I love them

I mean, I really love them

And they’re just like me

We’re both AFAB and genderqueer

And part of the same church 

They just decided to come out 

As genderfluid

I chose to stay closeted

Hidden from everyone.

Except them.

I told E, of course E knows.

E understands

E supports

E knows

Does E reciprocate?