The smell of perspiration lingers on his henna skin
that rich colorful skin
that sweats like it can’t catch a breath
and maybe he can’t.

He tells me he’s scared of disappointing his father
and I nod like I couldn’t tell
by the way his brow sits stiff on his face.

I wish I could change his pain.

I always want to put people out of their misery,
but it’s selfish to think that
I can save anyone from themselves.

Respectfully I wonder what it’s like
to be him.

How much of my ignorance
would be realized,
if I had to live in another body
with another gender
another race
and another life
that I couldn’t possibly understand
when I am me.



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