I am a woman.
A tulip bulb planted within my mother before the growing season.
Blossoming while others are set to seed.
Ready, emerging -beautifully so.
A flower, followed by leaves that cut; never to bleed.
Breasts that hang like our love words left frozen in the air-
pure emotion, raw figure: up to interpretation.
Impeccable.
Eyelashes I refuse to glue or paint, yet hide behind when the mood doesn’t follow.
Thick, (like my thighs) they protect me when I don’t want to see.
Curtains that draw when the windows to my soul are not public domain.
They never are.
Ask a woman…these windows should be tinted.
Teeth so perfectly irregular- pearls that never are to be oysetered by a top or bottom lip,
that smile spitefully for those straight and narrow.
Edges, that swing, as I dance to the rhythm that chooses me.
As I claw, dig, and climb to a new level of capable.
I am.
We are.
Always have been.
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I really like how you interspersed some short versus among the more lengthy ones.
“Impeccable.”
“They never are.”
“I am.”
This is a really good stylistic move that draws your attention to what’s important, while stopping the reader for a second. Nice!