Mia

 You’re looking at me with eyes that ask
             

if this is the end, but I think:

This feels like
             

coming home.

— “Life As We Know it,” Edwin Williamson

I grow up not knowing I was princess,
stuck in a prince’s skin,
I missed Fat Louie, my familiar,
Neither do I have a doting grand-mère
nor I own an inheritance,

When she sends
brown paper packages, wrapped up in strings,
and perhaps a bit more of our favorite things,
Maybe Fat Louie will join me
as we fly over the moon with my wings?

I, who never learnt how to waltz in heels,
And missed a kiss that made my legs pop,
Will we dream of a prince who knows
that my ego merges with my alter-ego,
understanding this chimaeric fusion,
is perhaps my very being.

A rebel under my mummified layers,
Weighed down by eons of inquisition,
defying the binaries of gender,
and perhaps defying gender itself,
I exist,
I breathe,
I survive,
And I’m finally home.

I’m just Mia,
wrapped with a boy’s skin.

Poem titled Mia
© Raju Behara, Questranged, 2022 All Rights Reserved

Inspired by Prompts from glo/napowrimo2022 A poem that describes and names your alter-ego @thealiporepost Home
@ayaskala Artwork called Mathilde Warnier by Annie Remich

In Frame: Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, Princess of Genovia, sourced from PInterest