The curse can be a blessing if you know how to take it.
Into your folds and dimples, the sore spot between your teeth no lover ever noticed.
A secret some of us women, with thighs like magnets for eternal questions, learn in time
is you don’t get good in this body thinking
“how to be good?”,
reading it between the lines of others wits and woes.
Find comfort in the shadows and light in your heart,
I implore you. I do. I’m here, beside you.
Rest in the shade and bathe in the heat of your beauty.
Linger inside out and back again. The others do this, considering all the while what they’re worth.
They don’t look back. They speak words that still feel weighty on your tongue, as true things do.
Trained in detecting the mouth that looks for milk in the darkness of every crowd, of course you expose/ you shield
then pant at the thought of being someone’s need.
This is only fair.
But it isn’t real. You are flesh and bone.
You are not a chain protecting some heart’s yearning,
meat butchered to soothe hunger, the marks of grown teeth scarring
a tub for others to drown their feelings.
They aren’t so sad as they seem.
They don’t need as much as they think.
They can wind around their own strength and meet you as equals, one day.
Till then, take care.