i am edges where i am supposed to be curves.
no one ever taught me how to flaunt hipbones under red dresses.
i am blue veins running highways along my chest and too much soul for such little skin to wrap around.
i am spines that arch like mountains, cutting through earth and dragging their weight around my shoulders.
i am thighs that fall in valleys that never learned to touch the right way, and i wanted to carve at their edges with my claws.
i am teeth that love to bite but never swallow.
i am hands that learned to clutch bathroom tiles like a lifeline.
i was holding myself by the space my waist takes up and darling:
i was disappearing.