When the boy tells me I'm different
I think it's meant to be a compliment
Meant to make me blush,
Like the shade of lipstick my new club-toilet-friend has handed to me

She is girlhood
and if I'm not like her
Then I still haven't unlearnt enough;
Still the magician's beautiful assistant

The other girls
are all I am
and the girls I love
My scary girls, loud girls, smart girls, shy girls

Hairbands on our wrists
Not afraid to cry
We drink our rosé with lemonade
And re-watch that one movie for the hundredth time

When he tells me I'm not like other girls
I want to cry out
Why?