I love my body.
The way it's imperfectly perfect,
slightly curvy around the edges
inevitably flawed,
tortured and tormented
whiplashed and backstabbed
but still and always a great piece of art.

I love my face.
The way its burdened by two chubby cheeks,
bears a thousand emotions no one can perceive,
how marvelously it masks my mind,
ignored and ridiculed
yet still chooses to smile.

I love my skin.
The way it is cold and warm at the same time,
pale, puckered with fear
tanned, tarnished with regret,
scrutinized and scarred
but still glows.

I love my hair.
The way it never listens to anyone but itself,
acts as a tangled mess,
an untangled spirit more or less,
chopped off, pulled at
yet subjects to shine magically.

I love my lips.
The way it speaks with kindness,
guards silence and is often
mistaken for its innocent kisses,
parched, bled and muted
but still a fiery, crimson code of concupiscence.

I love my fingers.
The way they wish to be intertwined with yours forever,
snaps, shushes and points
at the slightest arguments that arrives
with such brevity and righteousness
always kept crossed for better things to come by.

I love everything about myself.
I am proud of my body and everything that comes with it.
What I don’t like though
is the way you make me feel about myself.

I thought you'd notice me
So close I stood behind you
I heard your giggles near
You seemed so happy without me

Where ever I go, I see your face
Smiling at my failed reputation
To win you over, someday I will
And make you mine forever, girl

Just let this fear pass away for now
And forever I'll stay by your side
Protecting from eagle eyes and crows
And hold you by my arms closer

Oh so sweet and oh so fine.
He's mine and he's my valentine.

In his world where the sun barely rises,
there she is— set to give warmth.
The war inside his head is extreme,
but there she is whispering good dreams.
Many times he will shout "help!"
and there she responds and loves him more than herself.
She chooses to learn how to dance in the rain,
and tells him she's there even in times of pain;
because she cares more of his scars
than facing her own wars—
because she loves him and she hopes he knew.


*-Steph Dionisio,  February 14, 2018