You sit, spinning in your power, impatient fingertips tap, drumming beats of resolution. The compass swings south; a redundancy; I am surplus. The song is sung; turn the music off, delete me from your playlist. Problem solved. For you. I still have the tune in my head.
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Silver pathways, like the tracks of her tears, when she wept for her stolen body. Tiny hands trace shimmering lines, each caress, each smile, each embrace, fading their brilliance. Her stretched belly, swollen with pride. #showusyourbelly #bodybeautiful
There it is; A text, from you. I smile and the sun shines a little brighter in the morning sky. The dullness of domesticity is polished by your words, Each syllable buffing up my day until I see my reflection in its sheen. I see a woman; older, wiser but inside she is as young [click here to read more]
Want me. Push me to the wall and listen; I gasp. In surprise; In wanting; In need. I blossom.
You feed your ego, wipe your mouth on your sleeve, and, in silence, lean back into your real-life fantasy. I am cleared away with the leftovers, scraped into the past with the rotting promises.
She is apple: Smooth, taut, sweet taste Look closely and she will lure you Until you pluck her from the tree. She is orange: Thick-skinned, soft beneath Neroli flesh leaks acid tears If you squeeze hard. She can be cut, stripped, bruised and split Left too long and she’ll rot Spread decay to all who [click here to read more]