Nsey Benajah, Unsplash
They call the body fragile.
Praise the Delicate.
Admire,
the Soft,
Supple.
A frame not made
For damage,
Cherished.
But there is Beauty
In Battle.
For this skin,
So thin,
To heal.
To mend,
Grow.
Each prick,
Every Cut,
Forgiven.
This a surface that shows time.
That has embraced everything,
Gentle,
or other wise.
And has made it,
All of it,
Exquisite.
