Dear outer shell,

there were many times I tried to change you

where every squeeze was an insult

all the marks that I left tribute to my frustrations

and I covered up my arms in the heat

no seasons could kiss my skin

and now years on from awkward body policing

I see kings and queens walk the streets

their un apologetic beauty astounds me

it’s surprising no one ever told you

your curves form the outline of small mountain peaks

that sonnets should be written about the way you breathe

that the marks on your skin tell a story

you shell, are not a sin

do not be shamed into hiding from the world

and if anyone gets to paint you I hope they work from within

because our essence is more than the temple we reside in







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