i want the sweet. i ache of tamarind.
i sweat in spice. i speak in fires.
i sing with my spine.
i start my prayers with kisses on the base of my thumbs.
i pray to my body my human my feminine. the temple of my soul.
the beige and blushing shutters. the mellow brown. blooming in independence. dreaming of the touch of worthy hands.
don’t be too gentle on my body. don’t hide from my heart.
i don’t need your approval when i run barefoot or wear a mask.
you don’t need a spreadsheet of all the decisions i’ve ever made.
i fight for my invalidated emotions. i apologize for my insensitivities.
but i will never be sorry for all of my detachments. no one jumps into a road crack after an earthquake.
only by mistake do i allow myself to be small. i adore being held but not held down. i read between the lines.
there’s warmth in your voice. we are so close that i hear the rock in your throat. the warbling birds above your ears. i hear your love.
i’d hate to ask for your heart on a platter. i don’t want you to frequent my head. but i could want you a thousand times on my bed.
i am a lover who wants to be on your mind 24/7 struggling not to disguise my
selfishness as love. my love is not always pure. i’m not 100% sure that i will not crave your attention. that i will not doubt how you really feel about me. that i will not doubt myself. that i will never feel threatened. that i will never be weak. i’m not afraid of not existing but i am terrified of losing the ones i love.
i take loss deeply, a knife struck in between my breasts. i take no offense in a mouth complaining that i always have something to say. i just walk away.
i wish i knew that i was breathing fire before burning in it.
i wish i had learned how to make fire with words earlier than playing with lighters snapping between the fingers of people who said they’re putting out the flames for my own good. their good was no better. i was better left alone to shine at my own pace. at my own will.
i wish every lesson felt as good as the sun when i skinny-dip in the sea. i am not afraid of hurting anymore. the tears relieve me. you may protect me but not from myself.
i warn you.
i am iron. i am a fang. i am a hawk’s claw.
i am a rose.
i am water. i’m a cat. i’m the sharpest edge of a lightning bolt.
i’m a snake.
but in a hundred days out of a hundred and one,
i am not hard to love.
Kristina Taylor writes about being human as a woman embracing sexuality and promoting self-love. Follow her on Instagram to get updates of her latest works.
<a href=”https://www.bloglovin.com/blog/19731705/?claim=dut9ss7937h”>Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>