My body
Why do I have so much hate for her who supports me?
Her, with those curves anticipating new life
Her, with muscles that sustain sunrise’s new calling
Her, who gives me the grace of feeling the gentle touch of a lover’s skin
So, why must I pick at her?
Why must I speak ill of the vessel that adores me
Why must I ignore the light that fills with each warm bite of food
Passing through the seams between the lips
I am ethereal
Yet, the skin is mortal and fades away
The bosom beneath my collarbones
Prepared for nurturing
Will be gone someday
I must appreciate the chocolate glow
Of my skin, so intricately woven
Pools of caramel overflowing
Giving way to portal– capturing memories
Hands delicate enough to play piano
But not delicate enough to let another’s trespass
For my body is not just a body
It is the only body that supports me
The only body that gives me mortality
Even for a moment
