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Of course, I am she.
A woman I am, in spite
Of my dull man-form.
I am she, flamboyantly,
Gently, right. I am she
All night. I move like she
Does; I breathe as she does;
I flirt as she would; I kiss
Like she must; I am a girlish
Lust writ large, a sudden
Electric charge of female sparks
And surges and urgent urges.
I skirt; I poise; I pose; I hurt
Because nobody knows how
Beautiful I am as she: me.
A cry of freedom that arises from the depth of the soul. Thanks for sharing your poetry. Very accurate.