We are more than the bodies we occupy
when I die,
flowers clovers and grass
will grow from my body
to make the earth pretty pretty
And to give homes to other life
Bodies are not temples
bodies are homes to souls and brains and poetry
My body is worn and torn and aching
not pure not godly not perfect
it is none of these things.
i am none of these things.
countless times i scream at the sky
"why am I sad?
why?
the earth is filled with so many great things
And here I am sad sad sad"
throwing my body onto pavement
because i felt like i could never build a home in it.
yet it still housed my soul my brain my poetry
body, forgive me.
i am so much more than you
but yet i still struggle to see myself
as a separate being.
feel like i am just you
just a body
yes,
you have carried me through heartbreak
made me get out of bed
held my heart even when i felt it was breaking
let my hands move to lovers, to worn paper, to old rusty shower knobs.
but
my soul, my brain, myself was the reason i let you perform any of those actions.
body, what you did was not involuntarily.
it was me.
it was my brain.
it was my soul.
it was my poetry.
it was all me me me