My body can’t be defined by your binary. My body says
why the hell do you expect billions of people to fit into two categories? My body says
I do not “have the best of both worlds.” I have the best of myself.
I twirl my hair like I’m making candy. I pull it out like I’m made of metaphors. I’m biting your tongue. You’re biding my time. Years of miscommunication, disparate conversation. I down another disappointment and build another boundary for greedy hands to push and for me to cower behind.