Curves

My body has no limits
The deepest of deep, the highest of highs

I can tell he loves the curves of my thighs
The firm muscle, yet skin so soft to the touch

Curves, that i love and he can't get enough

He says "Love yourself, for you are a Queen"
I look in the mirror, but what have I seen?

African American
Curves that will take another woman's man

The curves that are my eyes
See way past beyond your soul
Lie to me and I'll know
Lie to me, you are very bold

The curves that are my face
show you my true beauty
The curves that are my lips
are so soft and pouty

The curves that are my breast
that bounce when i walk
The curves are my thighs
can cease a man in mid-talk

The curves that are my hips
which sway like a ship at sea
Make a women, by which God has created me to be

The curves that is my ****
is what u see when I leave
The last thing on his eyes, which makes him beg for me

The curves that are my legs
they hold me up to stand tall
When sometimes things get too tough
They also allow me to fall

See these curves of mine, are certainly mines of my own
The right to love these curves have caused me to grow,
into a women who has the knowledge to know ,
someday I will find
A husband to love, and caress these curves of mine ........

I am sitting at a desk,
back straight, head forward, eyes open. Blink.
Economics melts into white noise as
supply curves become demand curves become supply curves, elasticity.
Water weeps through the crevasses of the windows and ceiling,
mocking my ever fragile existence.
Ankle deep in yesterday's cold forgotten words unsaid,
the lesson advances.
Demand curves become supply curves become demand curves, consumer surplus.
A single drop christens my desk and terror fills my long hollow eyes
as the ceiling mutates into a congregation of puddles.
Rain that felt of hydrochloric acid
dissolved the very flesh I tried to escape.
God is not so sweet when it comes to sinners,
confining me to the barriers of an insignificant wooden desk.
The class remains like mannequins,
indifference radiating from their plastic cores.
Supply curves become demand curves become supply curves, externalities.
The only witness to this nightmare,  
my last breathe finally deserts me.
I tense as the numbing waves climb up my spine,  
injecting lethargy in each individual vertebra.
Malicious tentacles wrap around my throat and water floods my collapsing black lungs.  
White noise consumes the entire classroom as I float in and out of paralysis,  
only to open my eyes. Blink.