She/Her.

Some days I fantasize about peeling away my womanhood. I think about a delicate hold on the flesh that others deemed ‘She’. I dream of a firm tug, then euphoric release.

Strip lashes, brassieres, and misogynoir left behind on a bathroom floor.

The easy and graceful fall of Her and the emergence some Other Thing within me that has remained elusive, standoffish even as I beckon it forward to name it.

Some days, I indulge and delight in the Unknown and Unable to Be Known nestled deep in my being.

But only some days.

My pronouns are She/Her/Hers.