This body has seen better days;
it has suffered hard times.
Its skin is stained with scars,
the bones have endured both heat and cold,
the legs having walked thousands upon thousands of miles.
A young, yet world-weary body.
Every bruise,
every scar
a memento, a story, a memory,
a snapshot of when times were hard.
A sturdy, stocky body, more often than not
in tatters.
However, I immediately sew myself back together.
I am a scarred woman, not a broken one.
There are many stories inside this body;
I am a relic, full of stories and history.
But don’t let my look deceive you;
I’m fragile.
So when you look at me,
your supple hand preparing to touch my ****** skin
for the first time,
you must remember-
handle with care.