water and skin
i took a lavender bath tonight, thinking of people in india who could be using that water to drink, to wash their babies. we squander water. it breaks my heart. i cannot exempt myself, but i feel every drop coming from my body. all around me voices raised in complaint over cost, over quality. i want to scream think of what you have. can't you see how lucky you are? but i don't.
i closed the door and lay naked on the bed, cocoa butter to my starving skin, forcing myself in the mirror. yes, that is me. one day it will be me. i opened my legs and examined all that pinkness. wide as i can go. maybe i look like a child. it seems fitting now. as a child i looked like a woman.
there is still that shame in masturbation. i cannot look myself in the eye in orgasm.
i was going to toenail-paint naked but my skin lost its warmth. it is winter, after all.
.
there were dishes to wash and dry at ten tonight, between mrs parker and buffy (strange company i keep). a serrated knife, feathering my skin. another. when you press down with a blade, that pang in the gut and saliva something like lust, that small dent, that red mark it leaves is like a promise.
i closed the door and lay naked on the bed, cocoa butter to my starving skin, forcing myself in the mirror. yes, that is me. one day it will be me. i opened my legs and examined all that pinkness. wide as i can go. maybe i look like a child. it seems fitting now. as a child i looked like a woman.
there is still that shame in masturbation. i cannot look myself in the eye in orgasm.
i was going to toenail-paint naked but my skin lost its warmth. it is winter, after all.
.
there were dishes to wash and dry at ten tonight, between mrs parker and buffy (strange company i keep). a serrated knife, feathering my skin. another. when you press down with a blade, that pang in the gut and saliva something like lust, that small dent, that red mark it leaves is like a promise.