These leaves barely
cover my skin
I hide what I can
but expose what I shouldn't.
My clothes have worn out
just like my thoughts.
I have a bodily ache
that speaks of roughness
intake
mistakes
and desires to be fulfilled.
These bushes have stories,
heard amidst the songs
of the ocean,
and the innocent games
of the birds,
don't ever interrupt.
But then my consciousness
shifts to my clothes,
how loosely do I
I
wear my dignity
gravity
my life
and myself.
I am not perfect
and just trying to revolve
around the fact
that I am lovely
just the way I am.
But again
I AM NOT FIT FOR THIS OUTFIT.
©x.eve.x
I