by Emily Yates
I wrote a letter to my body and found I did not
tell her about my anger…
I told her I was sorry,
For her pain,
For the situations I put us in,
For the fact that we don’t connect the same ways we used to.
I wrote a letter to my body, and I apologized…
I promised to do better,
To listen,
To put in the work,
To try my fucking hardest because I am all she has.
I wrote a letter to my body, and we cried.
***
Emily Yates is a queer, disabled poet who lives in Los Angeles, CA with her partner and their geriatric dog, Bandit. She enjoys using her poetry to unpack patriarchal expectations of womanhood. Her poems explore healing and finding herself.
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