i will make myself
perfect for you
my body knows of nothing else
you look and it responds
contorting to please your view
i am aesthetically shaping
to your energy,
but not just that…
my insides twist and mold to fit
all the new forms
your presence has given it
am i losing myself in this?
or am i simply building upon my nature with love?
your finger is the trigger
you pull and my soul fires,
and million little pieces scatter through space;
they return to the atmosphere
to bounce then connect
magnetically into new shapes
i look down at my feet,
my hands, my body, and my soul
i look up at you,
is it pleasing to you at all?
having this much control?
people will tell me take back the power
satisfy myself. I am queen!
but they have yet to see the gentleness
of your look when I am fully seen.
it dethrones and unmasks
the feminist fight for free..
Or is it that it sits me down elegantly
like all that is royalty?
It has become a key to a lock
i had hidden away from
even me.
I must hunt this down like a hidden treasure
and reclaim the heart of me.
before i find that what this is, is not what it appears to be,
or before it actually gives me reason to incredulously believe.
and I do not know which is less scary.
