I'm in love with your Anatomy

How our bodies fit together

Our own symmetry

Puzzle Piece.

Why?

I've asked myself

But why would I love you?

When i look into your eyes

Into your soul, it's what I see

And I see me, I'm in your eyes, your soul

Because you've allowed me in

Into your soul, your life

I'm a piece of you

And you of me

A Puzzle Piece.

Your eyes

Bright baby blue

You look at me, into me

They become brighter, Relaxed

The gaze of the sun beating down on the creek

Another day at the river, rocks, sand, you, and me

I'm taken away, put in a trance, impossible to look away

Your gaze, unbreakable, I'm glued to you.

Between me and you

A negative barrier

Puzzle Piece

Skin on skin

Face on your chest

Buried in your warmth

A steady heartbeat, your rhythm

My lullaby.

Take me

Never let go of me

Don't take away my last puzzle piece

Or i'll be another unsolvable Puzzle.

I'm planting seeds in December
I planted One for love
Two for peace
Three for every moment I felt the breath of eternity
slipping through your lips as I brushed mine across your flesh
gracefully grazing with my fingers
the curve in your back
Healing the strain and tension that your work had let in
I held my left hand above your skin
and prayed the pain that had sunk in
would flow into me
I drew it out persistently
I took it all in a heart beat
and I watched as your mind drifted off quitely
Hoping it would lead you into serenity
With my right hand I projected
all the beauty I had collected
while watching the sun decend sleepily into the sea
and I witnessed you exhale all the trials you faced recently
My hands now taking you into a vast journey
Your conscious mind lulled into sleep
and I talked with you telepathically
Tracing the points sensationally
Touching upon subjects that needed to be
Soulfully blessing the night with a gift of insight
My love I felt everything
Unthawing the earth with the spark of spiritual empathy
I planted four seeds for always
and five for our hopes
The six I had left I repeated the first three
and I watched them grow
Two bonded effortlessly
into One being
Corresponding
Equilibrium
Perfectly
Forget-me-nots began flourishing

i am not pretty because
p   r  e    t   t   y
isn't an adjective worthy nor suitable to be applied to me
Pretty does not make good
daughterswivesmotherstudentsteachersdoctorsloversrevolutiona­rieswriterssingershumans
Pretty is an inanimate unfeeling thing while
i am a life force--- a tornado or hurricane whipping through the air with riotgrrrrl gale force winds in the background, leaving pretty behind me in refuse
Pretty isn't synonymous with worth or good hearts.
Pretty isn't getting up in the morning and making breakfast for your  hungover friends
it isn't giving someone flowers just because you care
it isn't women in in trenches digging irrigation systems for villages
or building houses for strangers in another country
it isn't the first breathe of a baby in a midwife's arms
or the sound of women being liberated.
It has no sound at all.

I'd like to think that I am that feeling you get in the summer before a large thunderstorm rolls over the mountains
and pretty
                     isn't
                           that.
And in sparse occasions that I am deemed worthy enough a piece of meat to earn this verbal badge of honor-- 'pretty'
that feeling will never outweigh the hate and anguish my body went through to earn that
'compliment'
it will never outweigh the meals skipped
laxatives eaten
amphetamines snorted
or times my fingers have been shoved down my throat until the tips of them stung from stomach acid
my body is weary of me punishing it for someone Else's ignorance and my need to hear this silly word & my throat hurts from putting my fingers inside it
& i will be ****** if i spend another second of my life hating myself and hearing women hate themselves because we weren't told we were 'pretty' as often as we would have liked
So no, I will never be 'pretty' -- I will be much more.