I love how baggy jumpers are a safe place and a prison all in one. I know my body doesn’t mean to be out of sync with my soul. I love the feeling of having my ears cleaned and collar bone stroked. I love that my arms are legs for my toothbrush as it dances elaborately in my mouth. I don’t have any tonsils. I know my eyes are made of numbers and symbols on a piece of paper in a filing cabinet – I swapped ‘Glynis’ for ‘Juliana’ to sit on my face and bring me clarity. I know my hips and ribs are as restless as my mind and never want to stay where they are. I love the feeling of clean bedsheets and pyjamas on my freshly showered limbs. I love to watch the needles hammer ink into my skin – like fingers on piano keys – making a patchwork of memories. I know my teeth feel at home chewing my lips. I love the release around my ribcage as I take off my bra and how glad I am I never wear socks. 

I know my womb has housed three souls                           and only birthed two.