I love being a women.
Everything about it.
Blood, burnings and birth.
Airy, soft.
Pure fire and magic.
Birds

Text:
The heavens of womanhood.
Revelations of my souls essence.
Emerging ashes saturated in a deliciously delicate black hole of grit.
You know, the usual.
And you?
I think I’m in love pt. 4
Whiskey baby
Whiskey baby
I’m warm with him
The sun, snow, and all
I think I’m in love pt.3
A bridge
Gazing into him
Mesmorized by deep brown eyes
Warmth bridged our souls
Hunger
he consumed me
as his last breathe
savored my flesh
breakfast
lunch
dinner
and he loved me till my bones ached
are we not all worthy of somebody
Suit yourself
If you’d prefer to sit there as I devour this holy pomegranate for my last meal
Then I wouldn’t bat an eyelash during grace
While the world is lovemaking to cope with flesh
I vow to touch the earth with the courtesy of life in mind
As you reflect the desert
Sandy and grit
The in-between
The more of the lesser
You’d be fine off asking yourself
Have you forgotten
And what are you willing to do to remember


