Maturing / Fading

Teased, streaked, and enthralled,

The voices rationalising my SCARS.

Every utterance dictating my fixation on hourglass. Tiny waist, bust the size of breast.

Reliable wine; brew for the ladies, The sophisticated and the classy.

If given apportioned a chance,

The roar of the shoes,

The au-courant girl who matured expeditiously. A physique congeneric to mum’s, age corresponding to mine.

With every glimpse in her direction,

I drove, myself a little towards being insane.

I would appreciate a conversation with my budding self, Hold her by her palm,

In the hallway of that 50-year-old building. Informing her about the adiposity

Not being proportional to competence. The world has heaps to offer,

for every time you shed your blood, for every guy who called you a slut.

Looking around, finding solace.

To all the ones who flourished a little late

The confraternity propped bounds on my weight, Now I struggle to confit through the gates.