This post is part of an inspired SheLoves Magazine synchroblog. Write your own love letter to your own body by July 18th and then link it up to SheLoves. (Even if it turns out to be a sassy love poem you never saw coming, ehem…)
Oh yeah, a “synchroblog” simply means folks are writing simultaneously on the same topic.
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My, my, my
Body
Look at you,
and your memory for detail.
You caught me off guard that day
The way you sat up straight
When you saw him.
After all these months.
I couldn’t stop your staring.
Yeah, I caught you lingering
over every inch of his…
skin.
Oh, I know,
your fingers
can chart his earlobes
Like Magellan
And ski down the slope
Of his nose
like Picaboo Street
But neither of you
were athletes
of form.
Explorers…Maybe.
The way you traced short lines
from his navel to his heart
and back down to the mole
on his….
belly..
Don’t betray me
My, my, my,
Body
I thought this through.
I know. I know.
You’re losing something too.
You found your nook
In the crook
of his arms.
You don’t just charm your way into that kind of knowing.
I hear you.
You’ve got mourning to do.
You need your space
to let your fingertips ache
and your head hang heavy
with the weight of losing the chest
you used to wake up to.
I know. I know.
It doesn’t make you weak.
I’ll let you speak your peace,
Or feel it through.
And I’ll try not to interrupt you
My, my, my,
Body
Take you time,
Relive and find the moments
You want to hold onto.
Take every last look,
Cause we’re closing the book
On this chapter.