I watch you dart past,a lemon blur,your swimsuit two crisp lines on your small frame,delight, swaddled in laughter,ricochets off each pine tree,hangs in the air I caught sight of the memory,a lemon blur,pulled it down from the skywith my butterfly net,swaddled it intothe small of my heart

here I am, a body of memories: the feet of a walker, coarse and flattened, thousands of miles have I roamed. feet that carried the weight of fluctuations between body love and body shame. ankles that were cursedly passed on thick and boney, yet never failing. calves that connect to the worst joint of this …

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