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a hold up;
Imagine the consequences of a different anatomy. Would you still run your hands through my bones? Strangers would not care for my face if it were skewed in some way; borrowed eyes or a smaller mouth. Would you still kiss me if a harvest reached my cheeks? Would you still remark on my scent, if it was not one you were used to? I imagine you would.

Imagine the reactions of a different anatomy. My legs would be longer, stronger. My voice would be one you were not used to hearing in the morning over the hum of the muted television. Would I frighten you? Would you fumble with my new clothes presented on my shoulders in a new way? I wouldn’t want you to be cautious. I would still want it.

Imagine that my anatomy does not make me a person. My love, my thoughts, my wonder makes me the one you fell in love with. Whatever lies on my bones, whatever my skin feels like, I would love you to love it. No matter what, you would still wrap your fingers around it. On it. In it. And take me as I am.


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