What It Means To Love Yourself
I suppose the greatest lesson I’ve learned from sewing paragraphs
Together with twenty six letters from an alphabet I learned when
I was just a child, is that loving oneself is a back-breaking effort
That requires a lot of clenched teeth and screaming matches that
Are silent and scratched bodies hidden inside of showers and
Inside of clothing you secretly wish you could discard
Loving yourself requires a lot of mornings that leave you collapsed
In front of a mirror that’s whole while you are broken, still trying
To pick up the pieces, still trying to call yourself beautiful
Without clenching your teeth, trying to write ‘goddess'
Across your chest with love instead of burning, white hot hatred
You keep buried underneath your tongue like an ink well
Loving yourself is trying to not call someone a liar when they call you pretty, it’s trying not to downplay compliments
And instead thank someone instead of denying it until your face turns red
And veins stand out on your neck and your tongue bleeds at
Having to explain the hatred you feel for yourself without
Actually saying you hate yourself
Loving yourself is trying not to paint over your stretch marks
Trying not to say to your reflection that you don’t want to be you anymore
Trying not to force your body to be like clay so you can mold it
And shape it into the curves that boys drool over and plump up
An ass that you can shake and be proud of so at least then it’ll
Fill the empty space inside of your jeans
It’s trying not to break your collarbone, shatter yourself into pieces
So you can fit your broad shoulders into the mold of “petite” and “feminine” and absolutely fucking perfect
Because apparently being perfect isn’t something you can do well
Loving yourself is like trying to love a stranger you just met
Who you despise to the very core of your being
Who just keeps showing up whether you want them to or not
And they annoy the absolute shit out of you, but you can’t seem
To shake them off of you so you’re stuck with them for life
That’s exactly how it feels to live in this body of mine
Loving yourself is like stepping into a new house that you have
To spend thousands of dollars to fix, but your broke and can
Only afford Ramen noodles and even then it’s sketchy
But you have all these dreams of being grandiose and beautiful
Like you’re neighbors, but you secretly know you’ll never
Actually get to their level so while they’re living in mansions
You’re stuck in a cardboard home with no decorations
Loving yourself is like waging in war with no weapons and you don’t
Know the name of the enemy you’re facing
Loving yourself is experiencing the upmost amount of hatred
A human being could possibly muster and it’s not a good feeling
To be filled with poison, to wake up each morning and cry
At your reflection, to go to bed each night wishing you could
Be like the girls on social media who are just as sad and insecure
As you, but know how to use a filter and know how to use angles
To their advantage and it’s not a good feeling to cry yourself
To sleep wishing you could be different and better
So instead of trying to save money to get plastic surgery
Or marring myself until I became a mass of ragged flesh
I decided to take an old spiral notebook and a blue ink pen
And write down exactly how I felt about myself so each morning
I sat in front of my bedroom mirror and wrote poem after poem
About the things I hated and every night I wrote poem after poem
About the things I hated until I started writing about the things I loved
Until I started comparing my eyes to honey drizzle on a summer day
And my skin to chocolate that anyone would be proud to taste
And my hips to gateways of life, because as a woman I am a
Gateway for brand new life and I don’t know how that isn’t beautiful
I started comparing my nose to the mountains when they have fresh snow
And my lips to clouds that tasted like sunshine and I compared
My lack of curves to flat roads you drive on when the night sky
Is clear and you are lying beside the person of your dreams
In the bed of a truck, underneath a blanket that smells like dew
And vanilla and I started comparing myself to fucking Aphrodite
Because I am a queen, so it’s strange how the presence
Of a pen and a notebook and a couple of free verse poems
Can change the way you look at yourself and because of poetry
I started to learn how to love myself and that is the greatest
Accomplishment of my life, that is the greatest life lesson it has
Gifted me with because to love oneself in a world bent on making sure you don’t
Is a rebellious act and i’m a rebellious soul
And it feels so good to wake up now, sit in front of that mirror
And find a million positive things about myself
Without ever stumbling upon the negative
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