i've been writing/reading a lot of poetry, and it actually sparked a lot of the ideas for this book.

i'm gonna share some (2 are mine, one isn't) that have kinda transformed into this book:

my body is not mine.
it belongs to their eyes,
the ones that trace across every curve of abandonment.
it belongs to their stolen glances,
the ones that breathe to judge.
it belongs to their hands,
the ones that move without my permission.

••••

i'm so fucking tired of being called beautiful
is that all i am? is that all they really see?
i'd peel the skin off my face if it meant someone would finally notice my soul.

••••

she never looked nice. she looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something