An open letter to my thighs:
I truly adore the trunkiness that you are
Like roots of tree limbs that climb up from the ground
And take me where I need to go.
I know we’ve had our problems in the past
But it was me, not you.
There is nothing wrong with you.
I’m just sick.
Really, I am sorry for the scars
The messy, sloppy, bleeding.
That sort of thing.
I appreciate you now.
I don’t mind that your thick
I don’t mind that you touch,
In fact I rather like that.
You stick together better than anyone I know.
So thighs, here is to you
You scarred up
You fit my hips so well
And stick together so well
And look so pretty in tights and shorts.
Here’s to you.