when I see your body.

When I see your body I do not see its curves. I am not looking for its chiseled edges. Through the looking glass of the blue-light on my phone screen you do not appear like the essence of perfection you try to be, not to me. I can see through a body, I can see through “flawlessness.” It’s a skill that has been sharpened by insecurities that once dined with me and then left the table when there were no food left to eat.

I want you to know that you are more than how you appear. Appearance is everything- to the naked eye. But once mine was clothed, it closed and then turned away. There are more windows to the soul than just the eye. And your body is made of glass, where onlookers can either see their own reflection or look deeper and see the spirit stuck inside. What I mean to say is that your spirit cannot hide from me. And as you strip down its layers, all of you is naked. Clothe yourself, sad one. The more you unpeel, the more you reveal. When I see your body, I do not see its curves, I see all of you. Naked through a phone screen. The soul, hiding in plain sight.

-JR