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| Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe |
Dear Sweet Body,
You are a temple. You are pillars of past, walls of art, high arching doorways of history. You are a place of worship for some and a place to rest weary heads of others. You are for everyone who comes by you honestly and with intention and love.
You are the ocean, your great waves undulating seductively around massive wooden ships. You woo sailors with glints of shiny trick lighting and the sound of sirens in your shallows. You are massive and deep and salty at all of the right times. Your tide pools tremble with tiny discovery.
You are a journey. You are smooth brow and sunburned lips. You are saddle ass and sweaty thighs and hard memories wrapped in the finest swatches of silk under heaving breasts. You demand cartographers with years of experience simply to find the terrible softness in your hips, your lips, and your collarbone. You are unraveling miles of surprising shyness, teeth biting into pillows of lips. You are unending. Would be suitors shade their eyes on horizons of your equator.
You are a wild horse. You buck easily. You tame rarely. You run until you are sheen of sweat and lust. You toss your head at danger and leap over obstacles. You are youthful and old and always free. You belong to no one.
Sweet body you are a carriage, a mystery, a puzzle, a long road ahead of me. You support me and rarely protest when I make you do things you would rather not.
You are still glimmering after 4 wars. You are the dazed smile on my lover’s face when asked to disrobe. You are the sun singing against you in your racy red bathing suit. You are the truth of standing up straight like your Papaw always told you to.
Sweet body.
You are a beauty.
Love,
Alysia
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| Copyright 2011 Shilo McCabe |
You can read more from Alysia on her blog.
