My body is a transgression; 

An abomination; 

A mutilated

Pitable 

Thing. 

Is it my body that’s the transgression

Or the joy in it?

I make eyes at myself in the mirror

dance with jubilation in my limbs 

caress my own scars

look good in any clothes 

I hold my fear in 

My heartbeat and throat and stomach and

My joy in my eyes 

So boldbrightsoft you cannot speak past

The wondrous creation that is my body

I take more than comfort from my skin;

Love 

Flows through my veins as strong 

As the fear you’ve gifted me. 

I am only a transgression 

To those who refuse the joy of me.