Don’t ever let them hate on your body

for it is a striking mosaic of bones

a relic of desire, peppered with nostalgia-

wiggling hips

like a dog bounding from the riverbed.

Your belly button is deep and soft

a likeness to a shellfish-

your skin is fuzzy and uncharted

and your fungus white fingernails

trace freely, the field of wildflowers

gilding your face.

Happiness can always be found

in this tangible body you call home-

the indents of your collarbones

and the fleshy, vivacious giblets

like small purple-striped jellies

washed up on the shoreline

in gallons of freshwater.

Your body is not a regulation

for your body is the delicacy

of free-hand paint strokes-


imbuing the undiscovered clefts

of every cave on your flesh.







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