Do not touch.
Do not touch.
Do not dare spoil this flawless property, now reborn with a fresh coat of vibrant color. Do not let your fingers dance along the surface, smearing the paint and allowing the grimy former coat underneath to show. You are not a blessing to this structure, you are a curse. You will tear away the new skin, allowing the dark poisoned layer to dominate this body once again. This structure has not been waiting for you, it has been waiting for liberation from the skin that has confined it for so long. After so many years, it has been given the chance to remake itself, to be vibrant, to be free, to be loving, to be adequate, to be extraordinary. Do not ransack its new-found independence.
Wet paint. Do not touch.
Let this paint dry. Let these wounds heal. Allow the new coat to make its way around every atom until each one sings with euphoria. The putrid coat of hatred that once coated this body has been shed. This body is protected now, bound in a steel-enforced suit of acceptance and unapologetic pride.
You must wait for this skin to heal and adapt. You must wait for this coat of paint to dry. Then, and only then, may you touch.