Textured

Oh to be so wonderfully layered as an ancient monument. To be un-appologetically complex, plural and shamelessly ornamented. To be held in awe for my complexity and density. To be witnessed for all that was, is and will be me. To be asked to reveal all the stories that live within my walls. To not have to simplify myself to be palated by minds that wish only to consume minimal spaces with defined textures.

Oh what a dream to be loved like that.