My body is a vessel for a soul.
Or perhaps it is more of an obstacle,
for my soul to maneuver around.

One day I hope to find a lover
that will see my body as I see
terribly profound and grotesque art.

A canvas filled with meaningful
and disgusting images…
Curves and flesh and length and shape
that pour over into her soul and let them spill over.

The feeling of suspended breath
and the gutted feeling of love
(that must be real because your gut’s
more honest than your mind)
will make my lover and myself
reach our own personal nirvana, separately,
but together.

And my ugly body will be the happiest vessel.