personal space

ferosciously beautiful


why am i

so goddamn rude all the time

how come

sometimes when im alone

seeing myself in the damn mirror

makes me sad?

why do i

wait til its sadness that grabs at me,

before making myself feel beautiful

and sensual and free and pretty and kind?

like, hey


i think and i know and i see,

ill be so old and so goddamned wrinkly seeing myself in the mirror

will remind me

of holding a prune up to the light in the grocery store

and inspecting its worth

so for now, fuck.

cant i forget the fucking fact that my arms arent so small and my hips are so wide

and well my butt, let’s not talk about my butt. or my skin, my face is pockmarked

but i kinda like it that way, showing all the world your scars, and sadness

and your legs in shorts despite the lack of sunshine for an unholy amount of time,

the way you speak your mind,

i find

elegant, but those strapping thighs,

sheesh, better than Mrs. Butterworth’s,

hot damn, girl, give me a pancake dollar,

and sometimes,

hey- there’s a way in which

your eyes hold sunshine and sparkle

and before you get too perplexed

I admire the way hips curve down sides, like

they’re sinking towards the earth or

grasping for the ground which they dug themselves out of,

get a kick out of these!


the beauty of the curve of your lips,

eyes half-mast, calm before she storms

shudder not in shame at the rolls of your hips or the curve of your groin

but the power behind those child birthing hips

hips whose main function it is to nurture and grow life

and wholly support the ecosystem inside its womb,

didn’t you see the news today? holyfuckingshit, a woman says she loves

seeing her reflection, herself

in the mirror, really shone brightly for eyes that blind

and grind to a halt

in crosswalks everywhere, cars

and curves, crucified.

earned through frustrations of being neither too fat not too thin but her bearing the equilibrium with style, and grace

face, pears and hearts and hips and really sunshine-y scenic space, personally, there’s

questionable motives


great golly miss molly

got that soul inside some fine ass


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