IF I WERE A MAN
If I were a man, I'd flaunt our love for the world to see.
I'd openly hold your hand beneath the blue sky.
But I can only give you my all behind closed doors, for the world cannot stomach our love.
If I were a man, children would see us and think, "I want a love like that."
But too many are taught to look away.
For our love makes them uncomfortable.
If I were a man, no one would ask me to choose between my faith and my heart.
But somehow, I am expected to bury one to keep the other.
If I were born a man, I'd give you my surname in the name of everything they call holy, or i would take yours.
I'd promise forever before family, friends, and strangers.
But instead, our forever is spoken in whispers, where no one is listening.
If I were born a man, we'd grow old without our love becoming a political debate.
But our existence seems to invite opinions from strangers.
If I were born a man, we would dream of little hands with your smile and my eyes—
tiny echoes of us, proof that love leaves fingerprints long after we're gone.
Instead, our future must be imagined before it can ever be lived.
If I were a man, I'd introduce you without rehearsing the conversation first.
But every introduction feels like a confession.
Waiting for our sentence- wondering if we'll be deemed innocent or guilty.
If I were a man, my grandmother would pray for our happiness.
But instead, she prays for my salvation.
If I were a man, I would never have to wonder whether introducing you would cost me a home, a job, or a family.
I would simply say, "This is the love of my life," and that would be enough.
If I were a man, I'd kiss you at train stations and airports without checking who was watching.
But I have learnt to love you with one eye on the exit.
If I were a man, loving you would be ordinary.
No debates.
No prayers trying to change me.
No strangers deciding whether my heart deserves rights.
If I were a man, the world would stand in awe of how completely you occupy my heart and mind.
They would call it devotion. They would call it romance.
Instead, they call it confusion.
A phase.
A sin.
If I were a man, loving you wouldn't be a sin nor would it be immoral.
But I was born a woman...
And so were you.
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