Fat Bottom Girl Said What

BAGGAGE

You didn’t know me before. . .

Before
life seemed to drive me to be jaded, untrusting, wary, fearful

Marked now
with scars and bruises
some evident
others not noticeable to the naked eye

So much history
packed away
stashed
concealed
camouflaged and ensconced
in the baggage I carry
(we all tote something)

suitcase
duffle
backpack
carpet bag
steamer trunk

If you were to say to me,
“Set them down babe,
the burden of what you carry could cause Atlas to collapse from exhaustion,
take each item out when you’re ready,
I’m here to help,
I’m not here to judge”

And if I actually find the courage
to take out the key
and turn that key in the lock
and throw open the lid
would you really stand there
while I release my own type of Pandora’s boxed goods

Because if you did. . . .

I might need you to hold my hand
take my elbow to steady me
on my feet
when my knees threaten to buckle
from the weight
of some of it as I lift it out

I may need you to dry my tears
and pull me close
and tell me you appreciate
all the things I’ve carried
because they’ve made me who I am today

I may need you to crack jokes
so that I may laugh
to purge myself of all the negativity
and misconceptions
I’ve pulled from inside these vessels of wounds

I may need you to love me