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The bra didn't fit
fitting, despite that:
the anniversary present I
did not want
bought for you
as a gift for me.

You didn't fit but
you wanted us to match.
I had nightmares for months:
with a softer, curvier voice:
with your face begging:
don't let him kill me.

I couldn't fit
nightmares squeezing myself smaller
down, down into the clothes you bought
the life you defined
pushing, pulling, curving
me into myself
and your transition song.