Deviation Actions
Literature Text
“I love myself, more than any lover
could.”
they laugh, but this is no joke
my shaking knees do not smile,
the sweat on my palms do not smell
sweet.
I have been born in
this skin,
and have loved it
whole heartedly,
watched it grow,
and play
nurturing
it, neglecting it
I know the sent of my skin, and every
follicle
of each hair which grows wild,
soft and familiar, like the forests of
home.
I love the wrinkles, and dimples,
the great mass of my flesh.
My fingers play across it
as a child would trace her fingers over
the body of a lake, or the frost on the
window
during a cool morning.
I speak in tongues, in dreams, and
images
that no other could hope to know.
I walk my mind in summer afternoons,
and nights on a lonely beaches.
I imagine,
all the ugly and silly,
stupid, mis-informed,
wonderful, fanciful,
and self-destructive blurrs;
because they are all beautiful,
and all my own.
I love myself, even when I am unfair
even when I am wrong, and selfish, and
angry.
Even when I wish to tear at my hair
and skin until I'm a harmless mass of
calcium and iron,
Even when I heave under the scale of
things
so much larger than this,
there is a voice in my heart that
says:
no.
You are a daughter of dying stars
and You are stronger than the trees
you love
and You are not perfect
and I love you.
and I forgive you.
So tell me stranger
who are you,
who are you to say
the word “love” to me?
and have loved it
whole heartedly,
watched it grow,
and play
nurturing it,
neglecting it
trusting
it.