I’ve done all the laundry, checked behind the machines, tossed the apartment, and still haven’t found my chest binder. I guess I’m going to have to assume I was an absolute walnut and left it in a gym locker and I am not going to the front desk to see if someone turned in a tit crusher.
Published by Holly (she/her)
Holly is a poet, essayist, and immigrant who writes about feminism, politics, and Elvis. Her prose has been featured in several Medium publications and she is a co-host of The Art House’s Moving Voices open mic night. View all posts by Holly (she/her)
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