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Writing, Poetry and Fiction Corner

  • Writing, Poetry and Fiction Corner

    Lovers Anonymous: Part One – Hungover

    I woke up aching
    Head throbbing, eyes bloodshot
    Last night’s mistakes rang out in my mind
    All their whispers beat down upon my skull.

    I held on to my head the way I clung to the hope of us. It still hurt.
    And then I realized
    Whether I let him go or not
    He was gone

    I had gotten drunk
    I was hungover
    The cure: 3 bitter tsps of truth+ just a dash of “fake it til you make it”+ a pint of self-love. Add water. Stir.  Drink. Repeat until better.

    So I got up and showered.
    Day 1

  • Inspiration / Writing, Poetry and Fiction Corner

    Beautiful lines in my skin: An ode to my stretchmarks

    My body writes me poetry.

    It writes in cursive.

    We don’t appreciate cursive quite as much as we used to.

    The words curve along my feminine parts and they demand to be read by every admirer of my flesh

    I started having this poetry written to me before I became woman,

    Around the time puberty became my uninvited body transformer.

    It made no sense to me

    “How could I have stretchmarks when I have no booty?”

    I didn’t get it. I didn’t like it.

    Now I get it. Now I’m in love with it. In love with them.

    My stretch marks. My marks. They run deep.

    Deep enough that I won’t forget that there has been a journey.

    Things weren’t always like this and they won’t stay like this forever.

     

    The creams, the surgeries-  futile weapons all.

    They may dim them or temporarily conceal them but they will never fill them

    For my marks are dents that never need to be filled

    They are reminders that a part of me can be broken and I’ll still remain whole

    There’s a science to it but I’d rather focus on the nature of it.

    It was my body’s way of telling me that it needed to grow even if all of me wasn’t ready, even if I wasn’t comfortable

    It needed to expand and it needed to do so swiftly

    I could catch up later. I would. I have.

     

    Every woman’s body tells stories.

    Some stories have more volumes than others.

    Some stories hit touch our core more than others.

    These stories can be read with eyes closed, palms open and fingers willing,

    With lips parted and tongues ready to translate.

    They are transcendent waves sun-kissed or moonlit

    asking lovers to immerse themselves and get swept away.

     

    These stories are epic, captivating, real.

    They connect us all as lines tend to do.

    Each of us being our body’s muse

    get a love letter (some of us get a few).

    My body may not be the most eloquent poet

    but it speaks a language that sometimes only I understand

    My stretchmarks were written in its native tongue

    And the words are beautiful

     

    Photo Credit
    Photo Credit

    Body issues are present in all of us and stretch marks are a major source of this for many. I know it is hard to accept these for some of us and truthfully, it is understandable. But we only get one body in this life (plastic surgery options aside) and I think we should have as much fun with that one body as we possibly can and get the most out of it. We all age and turn to dust eventually anyway. Let’s just accept that the flawless is unrealistic and get to accepting and celebrating the evidence that life flows through us.

    I was inspired to write this after seeing the Featured Image in this post. The woman in the picture, Alexanra Elle is beautiful and writes lovely words. I plan to recreate this picture. I just need the right photographer or the patience to do it myself. Let’s all own our stretchmarks and show how beautiful they are…if we dare. 🙂

    ItsNasB End of post pic

     

  • Writing, Poetry and Fiction Corner

    I Like Your Flavour. A poem about taste

    “I wana taste you”

    “Oh?”

    “Yes”

    “I—“

    “Wait, let me finish…

    I wana taste you

    With my pores. I wana drink you in with my eyes.

    I wana lick every inch

    Of you

    Wrap my tongue around every drop

    With my skin. I wana soak you in.

    I want to have you flood my tastebuds with your juices.

    Drown me with your nectar.

    I just want to savor you.”

    “I just wana know why. I’m not sure I’m delicious”

    “Because you grazed my lips and my mind already and what you left was sweet”

    “That’s hard to believe because I really think I’m an acquired taste”

    “Then let me acquire you”

     

     

     

     

     

    Featured image (not seen in mobile view) source