We have always been beautiful

We have always been beautiful.

We have always been beautiful, fabulous. Even when those weren't the words we were using.

We are timeless, yelling, awful, loud, excitable, on fire. Flaunting. Laughing. Long shadows against the night sky, neon of the flashing traffic lights and yellow and then red. The only sound the swish of air that cuts as you twirl your bag around and around. We are hip-py, how we move at the waist, and talk with our eyes. The noises the men make from the taxis that drive by. The sound of horns, and the click of the heels of our boots, the dampness left late in the night on the city streets and the mist that only sits on the air of this specific city, this specific way.

I come home to a lone dwelling it is the first time I have truly lived alone, in my life. Why are there ones who would ever give me the idea that this is wrong, bad. Why, for one minute, would we ever question this: our beauty, our lives. Why would anyone, anyone be worth giving over this loveliness, why would anyone ever convince us, mildly, wordlessly, specifically, jokingly--to lay this beauty down, or to give it away.

The best thing we can do is gather, be there, tell our stories in our words with our laughs in our eyes our hips or silly games, our flying hands or fists. The way we scream, and shout, and sleep against the glass on the door on the long drive home. The way we remind each other there's more to it...and also, there's only ever this...

We are beautiful, and we always have been. We always will.