Mama, I Like Girls

if I was an object
I’d be nice and maroon
with solid handles not a fixer upper project
so all the time you could drag me around if I was an object you see
I’d be nice and round
so your lies could glide over me
 if I was an object maybe then they would like me
maybe then they would use me
mama, what did those boys mean?
am I meant to wait forever?
or will their love beam me up?
should I just surrender? mama, you cried when I told you I liked girls
so if I was an object
you could’ve smashed me to pearls papa, you burned my letter
so if I was an object
you could’ve burned me better
would you have liked that? 
if I was an object they couldn’t call me fat if I was an object
I’d be “one size”
no mess, no surprise I’d be easy to carry
easy to set down
easy to love
when nobody’s around if I was an object
I’d be a spare key
so you could lock me out
then still keep me if I was an object
I’d be light as air
so when you drop me
I’m not really there mama, I liked girls
and you made it a storm
said “baby be normal”
like normal is warm so if I was an object
I’d come with a rule
do not open
do not feel
do not be you but I’m not an object
I bruise and I beg
I laugh at the thought
then I shake in my bed maybe I’m asking too much
to fit in your life 
I could be a thing
and you’d call that “polite” and maybe that’s funny
in a sad little way
who even thinks this
then thinks it all day if I was an object
I’d finally belong
but I’m a person
so I’m “hard” all along