image

what is image to you?

(they don't ask about how you curled your hair that way,
do they ask about the scars underneath all that?)

under the sycamore tree, the water rustling my feet
I step on top a castle of possibility, and dreams
paving my way for individualism and self-love

what is image to you?

Was it my hair under the sunlight-
The lightskin under my eyes
beaming
for the stars
As you kissed me because I was beautiful

what is image to you?
was it my blemishes
my incoherent laughter and my hard touch against your skin
Whispering sweet nothings

What is image to you?
Is it listening to Fela
dancing to the heartbeat of the night
under the paparazzi lights

what if I am afraid to be me? Is that image to you?
what if I don't show my fear
to speak loud between my feet

"Be who you are."
You always said.

Held me under my brokenness,
The cock crowed in the mornings
within those beet farms
I held your fingers gently
Telling you that this was me
I wasn't ready to change anything
And I never will

Were we a secret?
Didn't i just fall in love with your delicateness...

I roasted under the sun beams.
By myself
Painting flowers in my bed.
Becoming self. That was my image. I did it for me.
Becoming self
I lay quiet-

happy.

Becoming self
Enjoying this. Hurting there

I accepted myself.

Image derived from Google images.