The bra didn't fit
fitting, despite that:
the anniversary present I
did not want
bought for you
as a gift for me.

You didn't fit but
you wanted us to match.
I had nightmares for months:
with a softer, curvier voice:
with your face begging:
don't let him kill me.

I couldn't fit
nightmares squeezing myself smaller
down, down into the clothes you bought
the life you defined
pushing, pulling, curving
me into myself
and your transition song.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.