How long will our daughters carry the
insecurities of their mothers in their
womb, the way grown women carry past
lovers under their skin?

Insecurities filtered and strained through
white hooded sheets from people who wear
couture dresses and suites of sophistication
adorned with beads strung on golden threads
of privilege.

© All rights reserved 2017..art work by me

Mirror mirror on the wall…..

On those days I want to curse
the mirror for its reflection

I remind myself that without
hesitation I peeled away my

skin, slipped out of it for you
and stitched myself back together

with the threads of self hate
my feet were a journey of sadness

I was lost under the weight
of your disapproving eyes

treated as nothing more than
a footnote on the pages of

your book, and I am no longer
asking permission to love myself

© All rights reserved 2017