There is a beautiful woman in my bed.
After a lot of akward flirting, we started kissing on my couch,
And then made our way upstairs auxiliary articles of clothing.
Cardigans, leggings,
Socks peeling away until all that remained
Between our skins were our simple dresses.
My first instinct every time my dress is pulled over my head is to
Wrap my arms across my belly less in shame,
And more a shield against the disgust
The world is constantly promising for it.
I love my body more days than i don't and that is a long won battle,
But asking anyone else to love my body
Still sometimes feels like asking for too much.
Every time i've let someone f--k me with my dress still on I laid in
Bed afterwards and vowed not to let another person inside me who
Hasn't seen me fully - not just seen but marveled at
And pressed their lips to all the places deemed unworthy.
A promise i break as soon as the need to be touched outweighs the
Need for dignity which is to say,
That i am still learning how to ask for what i
Deserve without it also sounding like an apology.
When at last i hold my breath and plunge out of my dress there is
This beautiful woman waiting on the other side and unasked
She presses her lips to my belly before i can reach to cover it.
And she marvels, and she runs her hands over all of me like
Her palms might just slough the worlds cruelty from my skin.
There is this beautiful woman in my bed and
She holds beauty the same way that i hold beauty.
Hard won with both hands overflowing.
How can i help but to love her body the same
Way i have fought every single day to love my own.
And now i kiss, i marvel I reach and her body answers my wanting
Hands she is endless,
We are so endless here in my bed and unshielded and weightless.
Weightless.
But not the least bit smaller.
Thank god not the least bit smaller