I am in his bed
We are laughing while carelessly exploring the roadmaps of each other’s bodies
His hands run their coarseness over the soft of my skin
I smile, he smiles,
Lifts his head, locks his eyes into mine and says,
"You are the perfect amount of thick."
I feel my stomach fold itself paper airplane and my head starts to spin with the sudden weightlessness
He does not know the impact of his language painted compliment
Before I can even comprehend his words I draw a grin onto my face so falsely wide that I imagine myself becoming caricature, toss my hair calmly over my left shoulder and without a second of defense,
I say thank you.
I say it
Like the categorization of my figure isn't a box I have been trying to fit into my whole life, I say thank you like I've never had to squeeze myself into almost
I give gratitude like I am truly appreciative for the approval his lips have given me, as if our intimacy wasn't enough confirmation already
I say thank you, grateful that I am not too much but terrified that I could easily become just that
I have origami twisted my bones too many times to feel anything but bent in the all of the parts of me I still cannot find comfort in
I often abandon taking care of myself like it is something I need a reminder to do
I have my body is home tattooed on my wrist when most days it feels more like a rental
I let him pretend to love me the way I do with myself always
I let him call me perfect like it's a word that has never made me a sacrifice
I let him call me thick like I am the meat on his dinner plate, cut exactly for his taste
I can't help but wonder if one extra layer of fat would cease his appetite for me

He says these words without knowing how many times I have had to cut myself into pieces to fit into hungry mouths
He means his to be flattering and sweet
He intends nothing more than to worship my body in the best way he knows how to
But there cannot be religion for those who do not understand that this temple is leftover from a war
A fight of not enough, of an excess, of too much, of just right, of not even close
I have never been good at finding balance
This body is a safe haven for lost souls
It impossible to not expand when so many stories live inside of it
I want to tell him that the density in my limbs and the mountain range that covers the surface is the only form of protection I have
This shape is not a choice, it is survival
I cannot predict when or how I will grow if I do and if I do,
I cannot expect love to give me any less than what it does now
Even if there is none in the equation
I stopped counting and adding and multiplying a lot time ago, my weight is a formula I don't allow myself to know the answer to
And far as I'm concerned, I don't need it
For each human I bare my nakedness to, I hold my breath in hopes that there will be no earthquake in my vulnerability, no shatter of the ground below us as a result of being bare
I am afraid of cracking the ground of tomorrow with who I am today
So do not tell me infallible
Do not feed me adjectives served on a gold platter
I will not take what it is I do not create
Even if interest is shown in each curve I have,
There are better ways of expression
And this thick,
Is only mine to say it is.