After my mother shook my thighs, I started skipping meals.
I believed my mother was jolting Jell-O.
But she wasn't jolting Jell-O.
What my mother did was shake a mountain.
A mountain that has a river streaming through, because when my girl touches my thighs, its like water.
And when that stream creeps up
to the ruts and ridges on my hips,
I am sorry for dismantling you.
I am sorry for taking my aggression, anxiety, depression out on you.
I am sorry.
I am sorry for squeezing you into my jeans,
For only paying attention to the size written on the seams
For sucking in the pits of my stomach
Wanting them to be thinner.
I am sorry I got your lungs so panicked you coudn't breathe
Causing you to wheeze on the shower floor
Banging fists on doors
Only hoping all oxygen gets cut off for good.
I am sorry for wishing you didn't exist.
Or for me not to exist.
I am sorry I let him peep through the leaves on your tree,
He didn't look at you like the wild wonder that you are,
He only saw flesh.
I am sorry I didn't realize sooner,
You are not just skin
You are an adventure I live in.
Beautifully stitched together by the seams.
This is my apology to you.