I have a certain fondness for femininity
and I cannot tell if it is for my
aggressive dislike of being
told what to do
told how to do
that makes me wear short skirts
or if it is honestly the fun of it all.

I do not know if I exist simply
to defy expectations,
to wear floral dresses into a room of
wiry and grease-stained engineers
and wipe mascara off of my cheeks
after my sweat makes it run,
in the same way tears do.

Perhaps I exist to challenge those
people who would think a less loud,
less aggressive woman
in a floral dress
someone to trod upon.

In all honesty?
That does not seem too bad an existence.

i do hope that i am living
my truth and if i look
back in twenty years i do not
feel bitter for this time,
this time that could easily be
me crushing myself to
fit my mold.