Not Built Like Them

Mama’s eyes on the dress I chose

Says

“That cut doesn’t help your shape”

Laughs and points at old photos

“Back when you were half this weight”

Cousins on the couch scrolling

Posing angles

Bodies small

Tilt their heads when I walk in

Like I’m taking up it all

I count calories and comments

Trace every word they said

But their voices live like shadows

They don’t get to rent my head

I’m not built like them

And I’m done pretending

Every mirror war

Has to keep on winning

I’m soft where they are sharp

I’m curve where they are thin

I’m not built like them

I’m built to live in my own skin

Sister in my old blue jeans

Jokes about how they “just hang”

Uncle asks me at dinner

If I’ve “thought about that gym thing”

Smile so tight that my jaw hurts

Laugh it off

Then cry at night

Pinch my sides in the bathroom

Wishing bones would start to bite

I’ve been shrinking in the photos

Hiding in the second row

But I’m tired of disappearing

While my heart still wants to show

What if I am not a problem?

What if I’m already art?

What if every line and softness

Is a map back to my heart?

I’m not here to make them comfy

I’m not here to fit their frame

I’m the only one who wakes up

Living in this body’s name