Muscle, Bone and Skin

She looks on,
Gaze unwavering, unflinching,
Counts bones 1-2-3
Sees brown freckles dotting in excessive punctuation
Ingrown hairs angrily red
Blue veins creeping like cream in fresh milk
Across thighs muscular and dimpled.
A seasoning of bruises old and new,
Sweep across cushioned curves
That bulge and jiggle
No danger warnings here
In this body lies a promise of comfort
Of the ability to grind miles into the pavement
And lay prone for hours while the mind dances
Through ink pages in the arms of fantasy

She looks still
Seeing past and future
Scars of incaution seared in and fading,
Blank canvas stretching between

Muscle, bone and skin
Held up for examination
Chanted like a witches’ brew
muscle, bone and skin
muscle, bone and skin

The end spell revealing
Vast lands caressed by loving hands
A trusted soul laid bare

She sighs.
She looks down
She runs her hands down
She resists the urge to pinch, to prod, to squeeze
Feeling the story she has scrutinized
The story she has lived
She touches her skin as a lover might

The way she has touched a lover before

Why should she not look at herself
The way she looks at someone else
muscle, bones and skin
She sighs


This entry was posted in desire, love, Poem, sex, women and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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