My female friend had the cutest outfit
And I didn’t know how to tell her.
I say she’s my female friend because
I would know what to do if she were male.
And if I were male,
I’d keep my mouth shut.
Maybe, “Cool shirt, bro.” Head nod.

But my friend had the cutest outfit on,
And both of us being female,
And one of us being new to it,
I didn’t know how to tell her.

And it’s not just because I’m a lesbian,
Though I think that’s threaded in there too,
But I can’t be positive because I wasn’t taught to be a lesbian,
But who the fuck is taught to be a lesbian?
And that’s just the beginning of the thought spiral
Pulling me down into dysphoria like the teeth of Charybdis
When I see my friend’s cute outfit.

My voice is a hatchet job
Of abandoned training and lasered vocal chords
Like Frankenstein’s monster, it doesn’t know
If it’s alive or a man.
But there is a tone I don’t have that bounces from a woman’s lips
Like a bubble of light that bursts until we’re all smiling
Because a beautiful woman is a thing we’re all celebrating
As long as she was born that way

I clear my throat a lot
Trying to dislodge the masculine
That doesn’t give a fuck about pitch or resonance.
It’s in my chest that is too wide and tall
To ever bounce like a ball of light.

My voice trips out of my mouth
And plummets like my father before the rocks
When he heard his eldest son
Was really his youngest daughter
But he already had a youngest daughter
And she’s his favorite
And anyways, who needs more of those?

My voice stoically smashes into the water
Like a wet shit into a toilet,
And that’s not the kind of metaphor
You use to tell a woman she’s beautiful.
Because she’s the one I want to talk about,
But the mechanics of speech are corrupted
Even when I try to give her the smile
That no one is going to offer me.

When someone tells me I’m beautiful
It is a back-handed compliment,
With the blood diamond ring of good intentions
Striking first, carving a line into my cheeks,
Giving me that feminine contour in wounds.

Despite.
There is a hidden despite in every kind word
Like a razor blade hiding in a Snicker’s bar,
But I can’t tell them that
With a voice made of thunder and dead flowers.

Despite.
You are beautiful despite being trans.
You are beautiful, and isn’t that a surprise?
You are beautiful, not like other trans women.
You are a beautiful man.

The mask fits so well, you can hardly tell it’s fake.
The grand illusionist has bemused you
And made you believe in magic all at once.
Unable to put your finger on the trick,
But you know it’s in there somewhere,
The impressive falseness of it all.

When a stranger tells me my outfit is cute,
I can’t tell panderer from predator.
He says it with a smirk, like he’s in on the joke,
She says it with kind eyes like I’m a cancer patient,
And I am dying.
And the cure is killing me.
And I am beautiful despite.

Besides,
This is supposed to be about my friend.
I want to give her a gift the pure sensation
of feeling beautiful.
No despite
No spite.
Just two lovelies sharing tea,
Going in for a third steep,
Sipping slowly and talking about sea turtles
And how they know, in their bones,
How to navigate a tempestuous ocean
Without a parent ever calling them son