..are to be seen in every inch of our bodies.
Everything outside me speaks.
Lips are silent. Fingers swear. My neck begs.
My back, when it is naked, tells the story of my legs.
My breasts are freaks, they seem to hate my lips.
And my arms.. My arms are my heart. Truly.
Always open, never empty.
Who am I to believe I'm nothing?
I'm not mine, nor anyone's decision to be.