She always introduced her world of creations with an
“I hope it’s okay”
or an apology
Lingering question marks after every
“really?”
“are you sure?”

Apologies without reason,
Fear of disappointment when we never were

Ripping out stitch after stitch
Waiting for perfection to come and never leave
Like he did, like they did

She told me I was enough,
enough to overflowing
But she couldn’t say the same for herself
Burdened by the weight of men
who tried to make her less to feel like more
Failing to hold her down for good
but succeeding in tainting her self-love

Everything was/is always beautiful
Nourishing hands present in every bite
every stitch
every embrace

Perfection never came
but she never left

7/30/19