A Woman’s Body is Her Temple

I remember there was a time where I couldn’t look in the mirror.

I was Empty.

I wasn’t comfortable showing my bare flesh to the walls of my room.

Would they judge me?

I was Emotional.

I hid from myself.

Baggy clothes falling off my body, too afraid to see the true silhouette of my shadow next to me.

I was Captivating.

Men still called me beautiful, how could they mean it?

Did they see the real me or did they want to see what was underneath?

I was Lost.

I wanted his touch but would he still want my body if my clothes were next to his bed while his eyes locked onto mine?

Would he caress the imprints of my self hatred and make love to me anyway?

I was Sex.

Turning my mascara stained sheets to sweat filled with pleasure and pain.

I was Love.

Loving him helped me learn to love myself.

I am Alluring.

Staring into the mirror exposed, I finally see who Iam.

I am Delicate.

My beauty is deeper than the surface of my stained skin.

I am no longer afraid to speak to the woman in the mirror.

I am Her.

The woman who is happy in the world she manifested, once a gaping black hole of nothingness.

Her love blossomed from within and out of the center was a woman no longer looking for love, but willing to give it.

I am Unbroken.