You are not this broken body,
Not just skin and bone.
Not the girl crying on the scale.
Not the one that is alone.

You are not made up of thigh gaps,
Empty stomach and cold veins.
You are not the girl who ‘eats too much.’
Nor the one who abstains.

Your plate may be empty,
Stomach too, but mind full,  
You are not the world’s oyster;
Don’t be so light for the ocean’s tides to pull.

Your beauty is not a garden
So instead treat it like a landscape.
This outer shell need not be hardened;
Neither determined to fit a perfect shape.

So please, dear, stop cutting weeds that don’t exist,
Let your garden grow.
Beyond the horizon you will find
All flowers can be meadows.