the blood in between my legs: part 2

warmth runs down my legs
i am frozen, my body entirely aware of this nonstop flow
a cruel reminder of my physical reality
of the woman i thought i left behind in the past

no one ever talks about how traumatizing this process is
staring down at your own genitals to see a river of red
to see the results of your own body preparing you for a birth
that will never happen
a pregnancy that will never reach term
a child that would validate my existence, solidify my purpose
of being a woman

sometimes i have thoughts about ripping that part of me out of my body completely
that if what defined me a woman was simply these physical parts
i could be rid of them and be complete
happy in my existence as i am
with the only rule to define me being:
that i must be happy with myself, first and foremost

red doesn't look good on me
i wipe and wipe and wipe
as an adult now, i still think about how i laid in that tub waiting for it to end

"will being a man make you happy?"
men bleed too, in different ways
i bleed from heartache, from a thousand papercuts
small incisions to my being
as people would rather question my expression of identity
instead of accepting that this is who i am
i am not happy because i am a man
i am a man, and i am still unhappy
and i, too, have blood that runs red

people don't want to admit that men bleed there too

i stand and look at myself in the mirror
seeing the full height of me, the raw pain from cramps just starting
tired eyes aware of yet another internal struggle
preparing the mind, soul, and body for pain, pain, pain
i hold myself close in the night