My body is sacred.
More sacred than the holiest
of the places
I've posed in front of
with my family
in photos.

My bones carry a structure
with a bad posture
from never having been
completely held up
in a proper position while reading.

My muscles are working
with the vitality of a young person
who does not enjoy working out
and keeping fit
unless the burden of pressure
is eased by the water
I enjoy to swim in.

The organs which keep me alive
are damaged somewhat
by my unhealthy habits
but are still
keeping the holy magic
of being so painfully alive
going.

The tissues that cover me
have been a curios decoration
for my life's entirety.
My skin has felt the eyes
of the people that tried
to turn it to a commodity,
the eyes who have tried
to call it obscene and cover it,
the eyes who have tried
to fetishize it,
the eyes who have never noticed it.

And my body's an abbey
where only my cells are allowed
to live in permanently.
And for as long as that's so
no one can shame it.
Or me.