Still in the process of loving a body that carries my weight every night and every morning.
Still in the process of loving a body that keeps me alive yet doesn't stop me from mourning.
Still in the process of learning that her love handles aren't but a grip for a man to drink out of her like it's a morning tea.
Still in the process of learning that it is less about him and more about me.
Still in the process of breathing through the suffocation of a skirt, that chokes her waist and ends at her knee.
Still in the process of learning that more of her, does not make me any less of me.
Still in the process of processing her existence.
Still in the process of love and acceptance.
Still in the process of loving her.
Still in the process of being her.
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Author:
mirrorball (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 1st, 2024 14:34
- Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this in August 2022. I think i was way wiser back then. Could write so much different than my sadness. anyway I still love this one alot.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 9
Offline)
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