I appreciate my thighs.
Hell, 18 out of the 24 hours of the
day, I love them.
They are soft and they get agitated
when I wear dresses, but they
deal with it. They move with me
and I am grateful for that.

My face is peaceful. Is that weird to
say? On a good day, it’s a river
before the wind touches it.

See, I’m trying to be positive.
I’m taking myself apart,
piece by piece,
and enjoying the miracle of how I
came together.

My lips. My uneven lips.
I love them crooked.
My lopsided little mouth that
is always pouting.

How about it?
A love poem about myself.
A love poem about my own
body parts.

I think I’m in love with how
unattractive I can be. I think
I’m dizzy with how much of me
there is.
I mean, I’m like a house I never
get tired of exploring. I’m like a
maze that has fireworks in the center
of it.

I’m mad at myself for all the years
I wasted thinking my body
was a bad thing.
I wish I’d written this sooner.

Tomorrow, I’m gonna wear shorts and go somewhere crowded.
I’m gonna be the person with all
the sun in her.
I’m not gonna cover my eyes when
it gets too bright.

Caitlyn Siehl, A Love Poem About Myself (via alonesomes)


bitch do I look like I give a fuck





(Source: justnunya)




on a scale of fake pockets to nachos how good is your idea

(Source: sanastark)

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