My isolation, the way it became a protest, was me looking for constellations within the four corners of my room because I'm afraid to look outside.
I always dream of Saturn.
Of its rings,
the way the planet holds them with strong gravity.
I wish I can hold myself like that.
I am waiting for the day when my gasps are not from me, wincing the air I breathe.
I am waiting for that day when breathing feels like being held for comfort.
I want to dance with my grace, not afraid of my body's creases.
I want to hold up my pieces, looking for their bright lights to finally see beauty shaped in my form.
"I am worthy enough of the word beautiful."
I can't wait to really say that to myself like a gift I refuse to give to myself for so long.
I wish I have the strength to hold my debris, all of them, like Saturn holding its rings - magnificent in its own way.
YOU ARE READING
Self-Contemplation
Poetry"I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I've made them right." - Liesel
