I contradict myself.
I am in love with the human body,
for it is delicate and intricate.
I believe all bodies should be cherished because
they all hold some form of beauty.
Yet I also believe that
I will never be good enough-
Horribly insecure and
loathing the flesh that wraps itself
around my bones.
Some days,
I am in love with the different parts
of my body,
like my hazel eyes that sparkle in sunlight or
the romantic curve of my lips or
the way my wrists reveal the blue veins underneath.
Other times,
I despise myself.
Tears well up and fog my vision.
With quivering lips,
I reach for a blade to cut out
those god forsaken veins.
Why can't I love myself as much as
I love everything and everyone else?
I am in love with the human body,
but for some reason,
only mine is
not good enough.
I contradict myself in ways like this.