Between my freckled face and rough hands,
there is not much to find,
but beige shades, evanescent tendencies,
and faithful flowers that
grow tightly all around my velvet heart,
thorns that pierce, and oh the chaos it does create,
a mess inside my chest
the lost lovers and
clumsiness, spilling myself everywhere
feeling inconvenience
for dropping my own ink along the pages,
apologies for my calloused hands,
my rusted eyelids,
a strenuous piece to love, yes
it is true,
I am the art piece dusty and ripped and unfinished,
based in the Museum of I Have No Idea Where the Fuck I Am,
but at least I am,
I'm not unfinished, I'm just becoming.


I hope that one day you learn to fall in love with all the things society has taught you to hate about yourself. I hope one day you realize you are an art piece.
poetry ig: writingsbyjes
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photo taken from WHI: @cookiechann1