ghosts

there was a long time where i couldn’t look at my chest
even before, when the only time i took off the bra was
wait

i must have worn one to the hospital
what happened to it after?
but before it was just to put on the antiseptic rinse
i didn’t want to see them, knowing they had to go

now people tell me i’m lucky
because i got “top surgery covered by insurance”
or call me “not very femme”
because i didn’t replace them

i’m so sick of that shit
you’d think people would get it
that this body isn’t always the one i feel right in
that sometimes i’m masc but not always that
there are ghosts sitting on my chest at night

and sometimes they hide but when you touch me
they come back to life, electric and
i can’t quite remember how they’re supposed to feel

but even if i cry now when i try on
the dvf wrap dresses that used to make me feel beautiful
i’m still me
and when you touch my chest
everyone else becomes ghosts instead