TitBits: The Nuances Of My Body – Cassidy Harvard-Davies

I am a painting
made of careless brushstrokes.
my artist pressed too hard
and made my eyes darker
than they should be.
their mind drifted
when drawing the expanse
of my thighs,
letting them spread too wide
across the paper.

they flicked their paintbrush
and gave me freckles
where I didn’t want them.
they meant to paint my hair
as sunshine,
but along the way,
the paint got mixed with mud.

I am a portrait
with a too-long nose
and too-short legs,
hastily fitted to a canvas
that didn’t want me.
in the gallery,
the critics crowd,
pointing out curls
that don’t sit the way they should.

but –
the artist says,
running a finger down
the painted arc of my collarbone,
but –
she is still a masterpiece.
I still see the beauty in
mistakes that weren’t
mistakes at all.
and someone will see
the bow of her lips
and her fingers like piano keys
and know she is beautiful.

and if not,
they finish,
framing me in the centre
of their gallery,
then I will.
I will love me.

Photo courtesy of Jess Bailey

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