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kiran goswami Jun 2020
When they look at my body,
they giggle between their teeth that are crooked but they call them curved. They perceive how curveless I look
and tell me to perform yoga
so that my curves can be defined,
so that I can shape my convexes and concaves.
I smile as bright as I can because probably those are my only visible curves.
I tell them how every time I sit to write
my pen curves on the pages
that are thumbed on the corners
so they seem curved too.
I begin by writing the first letter of the English language
and make slopes and valleys of this alphabet.
I form serpentines and swirling cyclones of my words,
I curve my 'S' to form into an infinity
so that I can hold on to him for as long.
I stretch my 'K' until the end of the earth
and make it look like a single leg shoulder stand.
And as I take all my alphabets,
I turn them from staff position to the plough position.
I make my words turn into Paschimotasna,
and my noun tries to perform Kundali.
My pronouns sit in vajrasana.
My similies stress themselves and flex,
while my metaphors curl into themselves and hide as Marichyasana.
When I am done,
my poems form themselves into Pindasana.
However,
I remain coverless,
as straight and sharp as the pen I use.
I remain 'Arjuna's' bow
so he directs me into my own self,
my own heritage
and I end up killing my Bhishma,
my self-respect.
Hence while my words perform yogasana,
I stand still in tadasana.
EP Robles Mar 2020
DO-liciously said i   fell in Love
be()()Tween your most'ist gloriously
grand trait Oars swiftly guided my
strong and long co AWK went the
swallow chasing her boyfriend
and babies are beautiful in
Spring.

:: 03.11.2020 ::
Colm Nov 2019
When you stand in the doorway
Beautifully outlined by its brightly lit rays
Your curves an eclipse of immaculate Dawn
The sight of you alone brings new contrast to day
Not all of these verses are about me. Like this one is about a simply beautiful sight. Quick and to the point like a passers-by.

Why is it that all of the prettiest sights never last for more than a few minutes?
roumen Aug 2019
Centurie ago..
Humans ..
Rough touch...
I can see you.
Soft curves of your body.
Thiefs stiling your life.
I am fighting for you,nothing personal.
Not today ..
Am I in love ?
c Feb 2019
When I was in seventh grade
Society told me
That curves can be beautiful
And I thought the idea of that
Was beautiful
Until I saw mine.

It was never
That I didn’t find beauty
In others bodies,
It was that I couldn’t
Find beauty
In what I saw
In the mirror

And I know that
Sometimes
It’s more of a -me- problem
Than a society problem,
But sometimes
When -curvy woman-
Means hips like rosebuds
And waist like fine china,
I get a little scared
Of myself.
All body types are beautiful, be you, be happy, be healthy, and don’t let someone else’s idea of beauty stop you from doing the things you set your mind to.
you're wearing
bright red lipstick
and a little black
dress but you
are a mess and you
can't even give the
taxi the right address.
You smell of cinnamon
and sugar mixed with
marijuana and when
you laugh I can see
the fillings in the
back of your mouth
and I resist the urge
to touch your cheek
and feel the curves
of your body beneath
your clothes.
I can taste smoke
at the back of
your throat
and I remember the
way you once wrote.
I think maybe
I'll love you
until this *******
has left my veins.
What was your
name again?
Miranda Dec 2018
I used to love my curves.
My plump hips,
My thick thighs,
My ***** chest,
My chubby cheeks.
All the curves, stretch marks, and the lumps,
Especially my lumps,
Made me.
And I loved me.

Until I met you.
When we first met, you worshiped my curves.
Kissed on my chest,
Gripped my thighs.
You used to say,
“I love my baby’s fat ***,”
As you would squeeze my thighs
and I would laugh.

But then reality decided;
“Babe you should really workout some”
“*** I really think you should lose some weight”
Or you would talk of other girls,
Thinner girls.
“Country girls are so hot”
“I saw this girl today at work and she was ****.”

So now I’m looking in a mirror.
In my black sports bra
And my mixed match pink underwear.
All I see looking back,
is not
my plump hips,
My thick thighs,
My ***** chest
Or my chubby cheeks,
Not even my lumps,
Hell, especially my lumps.

I see my belly overflow the hem of my underwear,
I see my ******* resting on my stomach,
I see the extra skin around my neck,
And I notice the way my stomach jiggles when I walk.

The sound of my feet hitting the ground,
The way things vibrate around me when I walk,
My shortness of breath uphill,
And the way my thighs touch each other instead of having that gap.
That cute gap.
That gap that skinny girls have.

But now,
I cover myself more.
The curvy girl who used to wear crop tops confidently,
Now wears a hoodie to hide.
Secretly apologizing to everyone who ever saw her curves.
Her plump hips.
Her thick thighs.
Her ***** chest.
Apologizing to everyone whoever saw,
Her.

And I compare myself to every girl around me.
‘If I had her legs’
‘Her stomach’
‘Her face’
Maybe,
Just maybe,
You would be saying,
“Nerdy girls are hot”
Or bragging to your friends
“I have this girl and she’s so ****”
And maybe,
Just maybe,
You would still be here.

And I would laugh,
Smile,
And blush
And we would be happy.
Together.

But instead,
I’m looking at this mirror,
And all I see
Is a fat girl
Looking back at me.
For everyone who has ever felt this way, I’m sorry.
Alysia Marie Dec 2018
His
Within the darkness,
I felt it-

Your fingertips
drowning between
each individual strand
of my hair,

Your lips searching  
for comfort
in the delicate curves
of my skin-

And in mornings light,
I felt it once more-

Deep rooted memories
awaiting the return of
the fortresses that have
become your arms,

Where I shall feel
the safety of your
embrace throughout
the night once more-

Longing for it to be
a daily ritual of
waking in the presence
of your love


Alysia Marie 2018 ©
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