I wrote this poem in the space of half an hour before bed.

It’s one of those nights. I dress myself up. Each piece of my outfit a stark reminder of the wrongness of my body. But when put together, it suddenly feels right. I head out. Sometimes being unnoticed is what provides the greatest affirmation.

Denim shorts. Tan lines visible, skin kept covered now bare. I've got no hips to shake. My thighs don't fill up the pair. Silicone tits. Clinging to my skin, kept close by the Uniqlo bra. It feels a comfortable shape. Clammy, sweaty, but I don't care. Black t-shirt. Tight round my chest, revealing curves that never were. It may be basic and ordinary and boring, But nonetheless makes me feel good. Synthetic wig. Hair to my shoulders, loose strands swept behind my ear. It's uncomfortable and sometimes itching. But it completes the look. Out for a walk. Illuminated by streetlamps and the headlights of passing cars. People stroll by. They don't notice. For a brief moment, in this space, I exist.