Boys do not wear pink,
Though I bear dyed strands of hair,
frayed-from-bleach,
In a rose gold hue
And though boys do not wear dresses,
My stepfather is quick to remind me
Of the emerald-green gown I wore
As a kid with my kid sister,
Photo evidence to tote.
My cheeks flushed a -
Once again - feminine pink
Boys do not-
Men do not…
I do not care for the trials
Nor the tribulations of boyhood:
Manhood.
So let me braid my hair,
Paint my face ROYGBIV,
And frolic the way men do not.
If men do not frolic, then I am no man.
