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To be a woman is to be objectified.
Through your eyes,
I am never just a soul wearing skin,
I am only skin. A body.
And this body
has been too thin.
Not thin enough.
Beautiful, but only when it gives you what you want.

I’ve been told to change, to squeeze,
to mold myself into your ideal:
perfect skin, perfect shape,
a perfect everything,
forever growing younger instead of older.

But I don’t need your commentary.
I don’t want your opinions.
Because I don’t need you to want me.
I don’t want to be craved,
I want to be earned.

This body is just a vessel.
My soul is what quenches thirst.
It loves, not to ******, but to nurture.
It builds, it softens, it embellishes your light.

Only the emotionally fluent
and the spiritually grounded
may proceed to touch this mind,
or this body.

I am not for everyone.
Nor do I want to be.
To every woman who’s ever felt like a reflection in someone else’s fantasy—
This is your reminder:
You are not here to be palatable.
You are here to be powerful.

Follow my instagram @incurable_poet
It was winter when I descended into the river,
Descended to beseech her to teach me about her flow—
On a dark night where beasts and fiends shake and quiver,
Where the only light was her silky, glistening glow.

Upon her arms I knelt humbly as I
Shivered.
Before her majesty, I was struck with frightening awe.
I cried and cried, and with hazy eyes I prayed to be delivered,
And then I heard her speak—
What frightening things she spoke.
The river does not whisper answers.
It drowns you in them.
ash 3d
have you heard the cries of angels
as they plead to their kind,
begging to be freed of all the myths
that tie them down to brothels?

systematic anchors of the dark—
they scream until their throat tears apart,
asking to be let out, to be led free,
their body and their minds.
razor-sharp agony running through their veins—
is it gold or is it silver?
is it even blood that runs,
or mere glitter?

their eyes are painted red,
claws sharpened to push off the dread.
they wipe away and break themselves,
shouting to the blind,
always being left behind.

the angels of the nights—
they guard and they protect,
giving and resting, breaks at the harbors,
washing away like they've caught rabies.

maybe it's a society's flaw that they carry:
plastered smiles and pearly teeth.
they gnaw at the necks
of the ones who made them merry.

look what you've done to the divine,
asking to be met with pure versions.
you slid down venom through kisses,
lying in the quiet stillness,
making and breaking promises.

haunting, taunting, daring, breaking—
incredibly, they are
fierce protectors of all the devotees.
preached them, should have.
it's too late to place gifts filled with apologies.

now, if they're after your life,
who shall, but you, complain?
you were warned.
wanted, you've become.
the angels long since died—
now they disguise,
plotting in the depths of your despair.
they'll paint you black and blue,
like you did in their nightmares.

deconstructed the symbolism,
rage-baited all the monsters.
it's the seven sins against one virtue.
feral, i call upon—your turn to plead not guilty.
bask in the unprovided mercy,
for peace from violence lasts only long enough.
soon, you shall meet the ruin—
the unholy, brutal, almost forgiving,
built upon the humane exorcism.
god does it hurt to stop depending on painkillers
(i forgot to get the prescription)
The harder you fall
the higher you bounce.
Heartbreak can turn into triumph
if you're a skilled pro so announce it
OUT LOUD!
Tears can be used for nourishment
if you've been down a bumpy road.
A crash out can be latent fuel
for your next too heavy load.
You see between you and me
I'll never take the easy path.
I'd rather trudge through an intimidating
winding, prickly briar patch
with thorns in my right side and twigs in
my left eye.
I know I'll power through making
a trail with the grit and heart I apply.
May have been down at the bottom
of a well
with triggers of trauma
cracking my shell.
But I power up with that Divine Feminine fight
reminding me of my
God given right
to move forward and keep shinning my light.
Because tonight.....
Tonight I fall back in love with myself
and harness that Shakti with all
of my might.
My mouth is a magpie.
I collect syllables like shiny things
and scream them into soup.

Alphabet in disarray.
Syntax on fire.
Verbs wearing fishnets.

I said please but it came out pyre.
I said love but it burned at both ends
and tasted like lightning bugs
smothered in saran wrap.

This isn’t poetry.
It’s a word riot.
A sentence rebellion.
A grammar glitch in God’s inbox.

I built a language out of side-eyes and stutters,
called it flinchlish.
Conjugated heartbreak like it was Spanish.
(I hurt, you hurt, we—
don’t talk about that anymore.)

Sometimes I write elegies in emojis.
Sometimes I tongue-twist psalms into punchlines.
Sometimes I just scream into Google Docs
until it autocorrects sorry to spine.

My voice is a thesaurus
spun too fast in a washing machine.
Everything comes out wrinkled,
wet,
a little more
mine.
This one speaks in tongues and sarcasm. For when holiness and heartbreak start sounding the same. For when your mouth becomes a ritual and your pain starts sermonizing itself. Written mid-exorcism. Served with a side of grime.
Malvika Jul 2024
bask in the divinity of your feminine energy
It cradles you like the light of the moon
Retreat into your soft flesh
feel how it bounces back as you trace gently every curve
How could you have such disgust for
The vessel of your greatness?
Jammit Janet Jul 2021
#59
It vibrates loud
Elegant
Flows like words
That are benevolent
Makes me high
Happy
Alive
Sappy
Jammit Janet Jul 2021
#58
I write to calm my nerves
I write to bring me back to her
The Divine Feminine
Energy
Embedded in every cell
Of my Aries body
Bringing balance
A high beam
Of pure love
And synergy
To bring the world forth
To its eternal dream
Jammit Janet Jul 2021
#57
I have a self built barrier to hate
I am full of love
That arbitrates
Fairness in the highest fashion
Self love
Compassion
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