I am made of stardust—
every inch of my body was once a part
of the galaxy
and I need to start to remember that

How could I possibly hate the skin I’m in
when at one point people would look up at the stars
and marvel at my beauty

I am more than just bones
and muscle
and skin—
my lungs were plucked from the Milky Way
my hands once touched Saturn
and the love in my heart was a gift from the moon

If I continue to hate my body
then I am hating the universe that crafted me
with her own two hands—
how cruel to look at an artist
and scoff at the beauty they have created