My body is a liability,
I am diminished in my capacity,
As a viral assault occurs outside my door,
I am isolated by my own vessel’s vulnerability,
A contagion of which I fear to be host,
Inside my domain I am safe
Safer,
With potential hazards in every touch,
On every surface,
This is psychosis inducing phobia
to remain in such a context,
And yet here we all are,
In our mutual panic rooms,
Or out in denial of the risk,
We are unwilling hosts in waiting,
all,
Distant,
shut in,
This is the new
Real.
Tag: body
Not Just a Memory
You are beautiful.
I see you in my mind when I can’t touch you,
I ache at the thought of your hands,
Your shoulders,
I am lost in thoughts when I shouldn’t be,
The curve,
The swell of your behind,
I am lost,
The wetness of your mouth,
I am breathless,
The thick firmness of your thighs,
I am captivated by an image I can’t touch,
Wanting so much to feel, taste, kiss the things I see,
But alas,
Were it not just a memory.
Self Love
I feel
Sexy,
Not because you touch me,
But because my soul is on fire
With self-love,
This is my body,
And it fits me
Like a glove.
Femininity: Mine
Breasts and waist,
Curves swell,
And I take shape,
Loving every moment of my sensuality,
To merge at the apex,
A rose
Of my femininity.
Curls cascade around shoulders,
Framing face,
There is laughter in their dance,
Messily they shift in place,
They motion to my figure
A goddess,
Clothed,
Sublime,
The heat in my sexuality,
At the core of a femininity,
That is
Mine.
Color is golden,
Brown,
A soft, baked bun,
A bit more than done,
Delicious in its presentation,
Not to mention taste.
Oh, A ripened plum,
Juices,
Dripping from
Your face,
I am more than
Looks—complexion, body, lips,
I am an essence,
A feeling,
A bath of the hypnotic,
Erotic,
I’ll say
The exotic,
I’ll take,
A storm,
And a quake,
A river running through my
Hips,
An orgasm of hope,
A beautiful, trembling descent
Down, down, down
Plunging
Into the familiar unknown.
Nails
My nails are long,
And strong,
Not brittle,
It is a sign of my health,
Of my body’s apt recovery,
From life
Healing
I am broken;
aren’t we all?
Born into a world that does not care how finite our bodies are,
How fragile our minds are,
I am broken by life,
And made whole again,
living,
albeit scarred,
By the gift of healing
She of Letters 