my body was never a sacred thing
less of a small church out in
the middle of the desert
and more of a building
burned out from the inside
and ravaged by the
unforgiving sands of time

my body was this shell
that i was forced into
nobody asking if the label
that was slapped onto it
was the one that fit

and i broke my nails
on the walls
trying to claw my way out
never able to cut deep enough
to find what it was that
made me hate myself

spending years grasping
for breath
is hard to explain
but my skin bears
the scars of
trying to find the real me

my body was never
meant to be a temple
and i certainly didn’t
ever treat it like one
spending all my time
trying to get out
of what didn’t fit

i was not born into
a body that
felt like what
a home should
be

and it took me years
of building this body
from the ground up
rounding off the sharp edges
with careful touches
and so many apologies

this body of mine
was never meant to
be a church
or a burned out husk
waiting to be forgotten

my body is a worn
pair of boots
socks with holes in the heel
that i can’t bear to part with
a smile after the tears
crooked teeth and all

i built my body back up
into something that i
could live in
without wanting to
needing to
tear it apart

this has taken me years
and i am so tired
but more than that
i am finally
finally
finally
home