We need to measure the diametrics
Of your ****** and body structure
The radius of your smile
The appearance of your eyes
The height of your forehead
The size of your nose
The straightness of your shoulders
The firmness of each breast
The contours of your stomach
The circumference of your waist
The curvature of your ****
Your thigh gap
Hip width
Knee symmetry
Leg taper
Hair growth
Navel shape
****** color
***** length
...
So we can
Make you
"Perfect"

Encircle or recycle
the elastic of her *******,
for they're a bit worn and showing,
proving the theory of gravity.
But his hands still
lustfully reach for them.

The cinch of her waist,
no longer tailor made,
has inched itself out a little too far.
But he thinks it just right
in placing his arms around.

The sculpture of her ***
not quite cut from stone.
But he still daydreams about
how on fleek her cheeks.

The added width to her hips
the result of two full terms
and one premature.
But they do somehow
remarkably sway him.

Descending silver streams upon her belly,
those tributaries leading
to her Garden of Eden,
evidence of their past work
in the practice room.

Here she smiles,
blushes even at such retrospect.
He is so passionate about those lines
and the gifts they've brought.
Alas! He's more a madman
than ever for her fruit
and it's heady aroma.

Resistance is futile.
Acceptance is freedom.
She makes up her mind to be
comfortable in her own skin.

A woman's life
is a series of alterations,
some less prepared for
than others.
But there is little denying
her body is a temple
that continues to be worshipped.

You loved her vividness.
She loved your darkness.
You admired her strength.
She embraced your weakness.
You wiped her tears of happiness.
She mourned your tears of sadness.
And when you saw her flaws,
You suddenly changed.
Dismissing the fact that she first loved your imperfections
Above all your lovable complexions.

I made the toy with imperfections
The broken pieces in my collection

It was whole
And filled with joy
when it was given to me

But so many people wanted it
So many fought for it
Some earned it
Still they crashed it

Maybe because theirs were also broken
Maybe they didn't mean it
Maybe they just didn't know how to treat it

I am aware that there are pieces that do not belong here
I am not proud to say it but I also crashed and and kept pieces of other people's toys
Trying to fix my own
I joined the pieces

Each piece has its story
Stories of different journeys

Me?

I've traveled so far with this little gift for you
But how would I know who you were?
Why there isn't a sign on your face saying "soulmate?"
I tried to find you so many times and I had to use my toy as bait
I am sorry for not bringing it in one piece
But hey look around
None of these toys are new
And all this suffering led me to you.