I have become quite preoccupied with stomachs.
Ones that have skin stretched taut,
so thinly across that you can see every lie
they've ever swallowed.
Ones that shake
when the body laughs,
little waves threatening to spill
every emotion.
Ones that are held in,
too shy to reveal
the extent of their reach.
I have found myself reading them --
the depths of the creases,
the heights of the curves,
the shades of summer that
fade with fall.
They must mean something.
The contents of each
were not left to chance, no,
but were calculated decisions,
influenced by money, desire,
and calorie counting apps.
And I wonder,
what does my stomach say about me?
What did yours say about you?
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 3:42 AM UTC
I have become quite preoccupied with stomachs.
Ones that have skin stretched taut,
so thinly across that you can see every lie
they've ever swallowed.
Ones that shake
when the body laughs,
little waves threatening to spill
every emotion.
Ones that are held in,
too shy to reveal
the extent of their reach.
I have found myself reading them --
the depths of the creases,
the heights of the curves,
the shades of summer that
fade with fall.
They must mean something.
The contents of each
were not left to chance, no,
but were calculated decisions,
influenced by money, desire,
and calorie counting apps.
And I wonder,
what does my stomach say about me?
What did yours say about you?
work in progress
