I love how bodies aren't perfect.
I love how they are filled with marks.
Like life’s graffiti wall of art
We stand for something,
We own proof of life
Hands with popping veins and bitten fingernails
Wrinkles and Cracks on skin
Faces with lines and stretches and shadows.
Legs and arms made their own with scars and spots
A bit extra or loose here and there
Stomach and thighs stroked with paint like marks
Knees distinctly sculpted
Sloppy birth marks
Eyes as deep and beautiful as the sea
A nose carrying its own distinct posture
Lips so soft and gentle they’ve become a blush of pink
Life has left its masterpiece on you
Stories stored.
I love it.
I love our imperfect bodies and the stories told on them.
