I am not one story,
But many threads entwined,
Woven in colours,
Some loud, some confined.
I walk in rooms
Where my skin speaks first,
But my heart beats queer,
In hunger and thirst.
In some spaces,
I erase parts of me,
Just to be seen,
Or let be.
But every step
Is layered and deep.
Each identity crossing,
none will sleep.
See me in full,
Not in fragments alone,
For I carry whole histories,
In flesh and bone.