Slowly but surely I’m scooping the balm of the sages on
myself and lathering me up
Surely yet slowly I’m coating the itchiness of insecurity
with the salve of reality and clarity
I heard it a million times before that nobody is perfect
but I never let it sink into my skin deep enough
before scratching off the scabs completely oblivious
to the fact that desperation has to crust over before the calm regrows
I heard it a million times before that I should fucking love myself
but I never swallowed the pill, just let it rest under my tongue
and spit it out when nobody is looking because it simply doesn’t taste good
and its difficult to swallow
But slowly and assuredly I’m cleaning the wounds
and letting them breathe out in the open where other people can see
if they ever really knew me at all
they’d love me now and again
Surely yet slowly I’m remembering to rub and tap instead of
pull and scratch and hopefully and eventually
I’ll be healthy and brand new
because those people that loved me not
only matter to my progression now and again
or at the very least when the disconnected flesh reconnects
I’ll finally look the part, blemishes of past failures imperceptible
from a noncontagious vantage point…