Skin

Years of pondering,

And heaps of motivation,

I learned to get complacent in my curves,

The missing thigh gap,

An imperfect size of the waist.

And as a reward,

To flaunt them,

I bought a pair of shorts,

Legs dressed in proud,

I walk confidently around.

All I could see is pairs of eyes,

Sparkling with longing,

Lingering from down my neck to above my thighs,

Between my legs to across my waist,

Maybe I showed too much of a skin,

I fasten my pace,

Greed's pace is unparalleled.

It makes me feel naked, the virtual undressing.

Maybe I should wear a kurta instead,

I did.

A sigh of relief.

But the eyes never left tracing the flesh I carry,

I wonder, is the Hemline fine,

Not revealing anything below my neck,

Is the length enough?

To prevent them from staring at my back while I walk.

But it failed,

Those eyes could still judge my size.

Maybe a drape could save me,

From the hunger and lechery,

I failed.

I couldn't silence their minds,

I was stripped, yet again.

I am covered yet I feel naked,

Who to blame?

Too much skin, or the dirt in their minds,

Or me for blaming them,

For men get aroused when you show skin,

Guess, I'd have to cover my face too!

Was I showing too much of a skin?

Or is my existence too much of a sin?