when did you become so uncomfortable in your own skin?

begin to hate the folds and curves your momma would kiss

when you were a baby? the dimples on your thighs became

undesirable and dimples on your cheeks chosen never

to show themselves.

I remember wanting to look like the other girls, hunched

over the bathroom sink letting little prayers escape down the

drain. My body had become an endless winter: bad seeds for

eyes and withering plants for a tongue

it’s spring now, and I feel summer heat creeping in.

i have budding flowers as teeth and young saplings for arms.

i want to learn how to walk again and how to turn my words

into flower bouquets; have my trees grow so tall, you can

climb them without fear of breaking.

i closed my window eyes and wrapped my arms tight around

me. felt my blooming flowers stretch their necks up to the

sky and whisper softly in my ear,

“thank you”.