queer-with-a-pen

this body/my body

my body was never a sacred thing

less of a small church out in

the middle of the desert

and more of a building

burned out from the inside

and ravaged by the

unforgiving sands of time

 

my body was this shell

that i was forced into

nobody asking if the label

that was slapped onto it

was the one that fit

 

and i broke my nails

on the walls

trying to claw my way out

never able to cut deep enough

to find what it was that

made me hate myself

 

spending years grasping

for breath

is hard to explain

but my skin bears

the scars of

trying to find the real me

 

my body was never

meant to be a temple

and i certainly didn’t

ever treat it like one

spending all my time

trying to get out

of what didn’t fit

 

i was not born into

a body that

felt like what

a home should

be

 

and it took me years

of building this body

from the ground up

rounding off the sharp edges

with careful touches

and so many apologies

 

this body of mine

was never meant to

be a church

or a burned out husk

waiting to be forgotten

 

my body is a worn

pair of boots

socks with holes in the heel

that i can’t bear to part with

a smile after the tears

crooked teeth and all

 

i built my body back up

into something that i

could live in

without wanting to

needing to

tear it apart

 

this has taken me years

and i am so tired

but more than that

i am finally

finally

finally

home