when the pretty feminist decides to shave her armpits
at first nobody else will know.
there is a silent empowerment held within this chapter
one that resides within the rugged road to unwavering love
that she has journeyed on
and finally found within her Self
there are stories of self-devotion woven into her armpit hair
persevering beyond ‘tiny-dick energy’ opinions
a disgusted father
a heart-broken mother
uncomfortable lovers
but they are not contributing factors ‘swaying her decision.’
she is simply shaving her armpits because she wants to
she is shaving her armpits because she fucking can
her decisions are no longer laced with trying to win praises
or make nick in the grocery store more comfortable while she is scratching her neck.
so yes, she will purchase a razor at the nearest target
because her old one got thrown away in a rage three years ago
while she lathers her hair with soap and water
a wave of grief will wash over her heart
signaling to her that shedding skin is sometimes done in a manner
that literally strips us bare.
there is a space between silence that we experience
when we stand in devotion to where our heart is leading us
the pretty feminist is no longer standing in her own way.
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