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Description
I love the parts of me that are healing -
blonde roots lightening the black,
soft hair growing back on my legs,
less skipped meals and calories counted

but somehow I love the parts of me that
are sad and raw and broken even more -
chest either bound flat or stretching my shirts,
days where I don’t eat a thing,
wrists bumpy and marred with scars

I love the piece of me that
cries when I’m mad or want to die
and whatever it is that kicks and claws when I’m
told to give up because I’m
“not good enough”.
obviously I’m not,
I’m riddled with holes and gaps
and I’m not the kind of person I want to be…
but who is anyone else to say that?

go ahead, point out my chubby cheeks
and drawn on eyebrows,
tell me my pronouns aren’t
grammatically correct,
explain why you think I should get over
my depression and lose my weight.

I’ll listen and I’ll maybe
cry or curse you out, but
then I’ll laugh, because
you must be so sad
for not being able to see
what a blessing I am.

Description
I love the parts of me that are healing -
blonde roots lightening the black,
soft hair growing back on my legs,
less skipped meals and calories counted

but somehow I love the parts of me that
are sad and raw and broken even more -
chest either bound flat or stretching my shirts,
days where I don’t eat a thing,
wrists bumpy and marred with scars

I love the piece of me that
cries when I’m mad or want to die
and whatever it is that kicks and claws when I’m
told to give up because I’m
“not good enough”.
obviously I’m not,
I’m riddled with holes and gaps
and I’m not the kind of person I want to be…
but who is anyone else to say that?

go ahead, point out my chubby cheeks
and drawn on eyebrows,
tell me my pronouns aren’t
grammatically correct,
explain why you think I should get over
my depression and lose my weight.

I’ll listen and I’ll maybe
cry or curse you out, but
then I’ll laugh, because
you must be so sad
for not being able to see
what a blessing I am.