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.