By Imogen James

I sat with my anger for a while. 

We shared glances across the table. 

I apologised profusely

For letting my womanhood get in the way 

Of my true self. 

For the years I spent adapting to men,

Yearning to be seen by them. 

She sighed, coffee going cold. 

‘Your womanhood didn’t get in the way, 

It protected you. 

And if you don’t find her soon, 

I will never leave you.’

She got up and went.