Feathers

[TranquillityBase]

Silver and gold feathers hang on the wall,
regifted to Susan, who isn't here.
Susan, whose parents are antiquate WASPs.
Susan, who believed I needed to heal.

Blue and white feathers shoot from their boa;
the one thing of hers I stole when we split.
What does it mean, when we say, '''were born as -"
She says I'm a man; I need to explore.

Red and black feathers cling to my forehead,
where they landed, stained already by blood
the validation I needed at heart.
I finally choose to be myself, blessed.

Purple and gray feathers are my favorites.
Remember who I am? I won't forget.

Hi CRNDLSM,

I think this works very well, it has a nice rhythm, but rhythm breaks down momentarily at the last line of the third stanza at "myself, blessed" when I read it aloud in my head.  Don't really have any changes to suggest otherwise, the images of the feathers are vivid and your commentary kept me keen to see where you were going with the poem.  Leaves the reader with a lot of questions but I think that's what makes it interesting. 

TqB