Warm, soft, safe.

I know that i was bent into myself,
spine exposed, breaking in two –
but it wasn’t because of you.

I wanted to hold
my head high
and my legs open.
Warm and soft-centered,
when at my best i am full of
‘yes’ and ‘this is what I want’,
In control of every millimeter of myself.
When at my worst I am
a puddle of mourning for the
me I know I could be.
if my breasts were younger.

If no-one had told me
how to feel ashamed of a body that is kind to you.
which lifts me up, the body with arms
to wrap around your torso, fingers to run across
your spine in time with thoughtful breath,
heavy with want.

Now no-one can talk of how it ‘should be’.
That’s nothing to do with me.
I am warm and soft and really really there.
I am a person with feelings and a lot a lot to do
and it no longer includes worrying,
about my pubic hair.


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