One time I let myself get possessed. Not by Spirit. By a person. And I became theirs. Their possession. And at first I was celebrated, loved. Adored. Shown-off and admired. Fingers tracing skin I’d grown uncomfortable in but was learning to love again.
And as quickly as I was built up, I was torn down. Shamed for sharing. Shamed for being proud. Shamed for loving my body.