often i look down at myself,
my body,
and ask myself what have i done to it?
these feet,
used to nakedly wander through grass,
roll wobbly on blades,
kick carelessly in water.
now,
they sink into quicksand.
these legs,
used to run for infinity,
swing into clean air,
lounge across chair arms.
now,
they are streaked pale.
this stomach,
used to tremble with light,
dance in the sun,
lie flat.
now,
it dips in hills and valleys.
these arms,
used to lace through trees,
hang heavily on bars,
hold my body.
now,
they recoil.
these hands,
used to form art with fire,
write to remember,
caress plant buds.
now,
they pick at petals.
this body.
now,
stained with regret.
a poem i will go back to and revise, i haven't written a poem for so long but i finally felt like it