The Death of Presentational, Performative, And Pretty

Strip bare for me⁠
And be messy.⁠ ⁠

Free yourself of⁠
The facade⁠
The filters⁠
The flirty colors⁠

Of the performance of pretty,⁠
Like your humanity is up for the pageant queen prize⁠.⁠

I want to feel the depth of your flesh ⁠
and the rooted power in your calloused feet.⁠

The vast array of naked emotions.⁠
The etched heartache in wrinkled eyelids⁠
And the disappointment in your lips.⁠

The lines of ecstasy on your cheeks⁠
And the mountains of smiles in your cells.⁠

Perfectly manicured.⁠
Sculpting emptiness.⁠

For what?⁠

Digital likes.⁠
Virtual kisses.⁠

Swapped out from the rightful position of wild messy giggles and burps and thigh dimples and squishy bellies that nest laughs that echo across state lines.⁠

I love you.⁠
Whole.⁠
Stop coloring yourself in within the lines.⁠
Be messy.⁠
Be messy.⁠
Be messy.⁠

And then gasp with delight at freedom tickling your naked skin releasing you from the confines of pretty proper and prim.⁠

Find pleasure in the growl.⁠
Find pretty in the messy. ⁠
Find power in walking off the virtual set of cookie cutter expectations.⁠

You can exhale now.⁠
You can melt your shoulders⁠
You can enjoy the frown underneath the age-old smile that is hurting your insides.⁠

Be messy⁠
Be messy⁠
Be messy.⁠