Alexa Cruz Abaca

Tender flesh I wish I could touch, But when I see, I seize in disgust. So heavy compared to lean, I am unclean. Formerly crystallized but now undone, Skin folding in origami with deep creases, Scars sincere, a period piece.

It’s beyond frustrating growing up with your femininity being questioned, children relentlessly teasing about my hair and amazed by how I was unsure of playground games. It was isolating, I saw girls being praised and wondered why it couldn’t be me. I befriended the most extraordinary girl, Elise, it felt reassuring that someone had viewed me of value that happened to be white. Time passed and I was in Elise’s car with our other friends, filled with bass boosted club music and laughs – it’s interrupted by Kylie, a Korean American,