Strappy sandles, roman sandles laced up the ankle, legwarmers, flowery skirts - the legs, the legs, the legs

The moments of subversion when I expect gender to be aligned with compulsory femininity, and I am surprised

Delicate jewelry, fingernail polish, pierced ears, garter belts, purses, glasses

The way she walks in high heels

The under-the-eyelashes fuck-me look

The feminine curves of cleavage and the clavicle

The struggles with not being visibly out, which also brings the privilege of hearing what people say when they don’t know someone queer is listening

Holding the door open, holding your umbrella, ordering for you, pulling out your chair, that moment when you take my arm, carrying your heavy burdons, cradling your delicacy …

The examination, overhaul, and eventual reclamation or rejection of “traditional femme hobbies”

When a boy actually turns you off … but I turn you on