My breasts sag.
They are small, soft,
Easily laying against my chest
Falling off to the sides
Across them light lines that weave
stories like rivers flowing downward to the earth.
I have practiced exactly one thousand
positions, casually cupping them, shrouding them
Your eyes averted, kissing around them
You pretend my breasts don’t sag
I pretend my breasts don’t sag
We pretend our breasts don’t sag,
pretend our bellies are flat, pretend our hearts do not hurt.
And I want to say
that there is power in our softness, in our vulnerability. When I see us in
mirrors, biting lips and furrowing brows, I want to drop to my knees womyn and
tell you that we are perfection. But we stand in this all together, carrying
with us the whispers and shouts of a glossy photoshopped world that tries to
will us into non-existence with size 00's and I see you worry that my gaze
comes with a judgement but I promise you it doesn't. (And to be clear no shade
to my slender sisters, I simply believe that you/we should all get a real
number)
I love the many expression of femme-ness, love the subtly and directness in our sexuality, love the war paint, love us knee deep in the swamp and wide eyed in my arms. I love it when you tell me what to do and love it equally when you have no idea.
I want to shield us from the whole world beautifulbrokengorgeous as we are. I think that your round bellies are so sexy, the way you wrap your tight curls/locks/braids/crown is artful and commanding and when you say something crass/brilliant/provocative/brave I.melt.every.single.time.
And I can't fit it all in here, nor will I try, but I promise to tell you all that I love you more. Proudly declare it and treat you preciously. In this patriarchal, racist, mind fuck of a world we are both what is desired and defiled, vessels of power and of shame. A world often surprised by our intelligence and dismayed by our independence.
But babes we are oh so hard on the world, can't help but turn heads and drop jaws. Can't help but free minds and steal hearts. We are scientists and sex workers and when we find each other and find ourselves in each other, I know I am watching god.
I love the many expression of femme-ness, love the subtly and directness in our sexuality, love the war paint, love us knee deep in the swamp and wide eyed in my arms. I love it when you tell me what to do and love it equally when you have no idea.
I want to shield us from the whole world beautifulbrokengorgeous as we are. I think that your round bellies are so sexy, the way you wrap your tight curls/locks/braids/crown is artful and commanding and when you say something crass/brilliant/provocative/brave I.melt.every.single.time.
And I can't fit it all in here, nor will I try, but I promise to tell you all that I love you more. Proudly declare it and treat you preciously. In this patriarchal, racist, mind fuck of a world we are both what is desired and defiled, vessels of power and of shame. A world often surprised by our intelligence and dismayed by our independence.
But babes we are oh so hard on the world, can't help but turn heads and drop jaws. Can't help but free minds and steal hearts. We are scientists and sex workers and when we find each other and find ourselves in each other, I know I am watching god.
And it is oh so hard to love without
conditions, to love with the urgency that we deserve, and in defiance of all
that opposes blackgirllove.
For the moments we forget, for the
moments we can’t find the joy in our arms curve, the blessings in our fat
thighs, the bliss in our sagging breasts.
For those moments,
I want to remind us that we are never
too much and always enough.
Explosions of stardust
Bodies of pure worship
Magnificent in our ugly
Eternal in our darkness
