I am not my body

I am not the freckles scattered across my face like mismatched constellations
I am not the extra cupcakes that find their way to my thighs
I am not the shade of my eyes nor the hue of my skin
I am not the dark circles that come from lack of sleep
I am not the imperfections that appear on my forehead

I am my soul

I am a sad song on a lonely Saturday night
I am cute movies at midday and romantic comedies at midnight
I am the moon and the sun and the stars and the trees dancing in the wind
I am love and heartbreak, art and music
I am the clothes I wear and the people I associate with
I am the eye of a hurricane

My body is just a fragile house for the memories and dreams that live inside me.
And I refuse to be defined by that in which I reside.