Androgynous beauty

Androgynous beauty. Profane eagerness for being what I want. Heinous craziness and energy. Different look, different laugh, different squint. Her body was not full. Wanted to fulfill with love. Saw her first time in the house oozing difference upon my child soul and her step-mother angrily tickled her not to do bad. I just sat and saw her sexiness and energy in eyes. Body and lustful manner of the child registered into my mind so I can remind the feeling once I have had. After couple of hours we played in the yard, she yelled, held my arm tight I couldn’t find the escape while continuity of her smile drowned me – as I hadn’t treated before as a child likewise. Sexy.

After years I saw her in the middle of conflict she was dealing with his soul, suffering, still fed by his parents. As a foster child, they adopt her for years of futile effort of maternity. Now, the burden of his compulsory soul on their shoulder was not fair as they emphasized more than thousand times to her how to dress like a woman, how to act gently with boys and court disciplines. His body craved with urge of flying, imprisoned on traditions and lies. As he grew up with principles of tradition in a false way of family order, he started to suffocate her mind easily by tactful speech I have never seen in my life other night. He wanted freedom. She wanted masculinity. He wanted escape. Escaping the doorway, yelling, crying, flying and freezing into bud. She was about to oozing out of her body into kindness of true physics which the tradition of her family doesn’t allow her to conceive the idea even. Doing what he must do is the next chapter.

Now I think of his lost identity. His imprisoned soul. His vigor hid behind androgynous beauty. His labyrinthine life of downtrodden.