breathed
through the slit of her mouth
where dandelions smiled
begging to be
uprooted, undone
in a cosmic sigh across this endless leaf, the Wind she
turned her back to us
what felt like a yawn across a fatal gorge
and down below, the tremble of her core
lifting up our dreams in outstretched fists
of flower dust, from a time before
we..
close our eyes in unison
breathe out
the tune   of our birth,
which our mothers' hummed in their sleep, our being
only imagined
in their unfathomed dreams

How sensuous and seductive is the unique confidence of a woman. The way she nurtures her appearance as well as her career, education, and every living thing around her. Her dedicated intellect that balances a drive towards production as well as love and affection. It is in a woman’s heart that grace is found, boundless supplies for those who have wronged her, but also those who she will teach about the love she found in herself. She is a beacon to a society lost in the fray.

I remember being a little girl
Spending late nights on the couch with my mom
Dozing off to Dancing With the Stars

I remember being a little girl
Playing dress up with my brother and sister
Without a care in the world

I remember being a little girl
Thinking I could be whoever I wanted
Knowing I could have whatever I dreamed

I remember growing up
Realizing the world isn't all sugar and spice
Certainly not everything nice

I remember growing up
Age 12 is the first time someone called me a woman
From their car racing past me

I remember growing up
And now instead of being a little girl
I just feel like one

Pretty princesses live in pretty castles
that they built themselves
towering upon the clouds
towards their dreams and goals
nothing was by halves
Surrounded by moats
to protect what she means the most,
a prized possesion,
of a heart of gold and diamonds
Keep the enemies' attackers away,
trap them at bay
Away from where she kept her high-esteem, rightly so
guarded, for her one and only S.O....

I'm a woman that needs to be loved
I'm a woman with dreams & hopes
I'm a woman with love that wants to express
I'm a woman that won't back down in what I believe in
I'm a woman with desire
I'm a woman that is up for a challenge
I'm a woman with a lot of despair, and needs to go away
I'm a woman that has dreams and hopes filled with desire that's going to come true
I'm also a woman with desire that wants to express it in a way that makes me feel good
I'm a woman filled with love, but I wanna be with my love
        Written by Julie David

This winter, I find myself raw,
chapped and tender like the skin
of my over-chewed bottom lip.

My mouth is always the one
that takes the most damage.
I catch myself on my front two teeth,
both with cracks on the side
from where my face kissed
the floors of roller skating rinks
and the frame of my grandparents' bed.

The help me bite my tongue
in moments of assurance
and bite my lip
when I falter under the weight
of my own name.

I am not a carnivore, nor someone
who wants to take you in,
and scrape the meat from your bones.

I'm a woman, with pink gums
and a sharp tongue that stabs me
in the roof of my mouth
and hurts me more than any of the hands
that have ever struck my face.

It's not because I'm weak or submissive,
I'm callow still,
constantly falling in love with
every person I touch,
not yet cultivated enough
to give them the words
I once promised.

Goddess, such a relegating term
But then again,
How do you abridge someone
Who embodies universes inside?
How do I, a mere wanderer,
who is in awe of your luminous wit
Who has traversed her terrains,
Strolled from the glacier
Though her well carved volcanoes
Down to her meadows where,
Her majestic rivers meet and form conflux.
Where her flower continuesly disperse
The elixir of eternal life,
When it is kindled by the desire.
How could i, a mere nomad
Who continouesly crave this water of life
Who is always seeking this fountain,
do you justice,
And encapsulate you, the infinite beauty,
In one word,
Except for the relegating term Goddess,
That my petty mind could come up with.

i beg for other people’s *** stories,
because i am broken and unloved...

and when boys snarl,
                             i feel alone, although
i know that they are just laughing...

and
i’ve found that womanhood is
half shame before everything else,

so i can only notice how
other girls wave their successes above my head,
as though being ****** is a prize and being loved is an end game,

that screams GAME OVER in bright red.

i will take my silence over your lifestyle any day,
despite the fact that i still cry when you leave.

I am the cushion that life first rests in,
The crib meticulously created layer by layer,
The soft bed of flowers, glistening like blood,
The protector of all beings, the seat of care

My love is fuelled by the silver calmness
I gently extract from the first lunar night,
When the moon emerges from its dark sabbatical,
Armed with tales it gathered from the other side

Each day, its luminosity deepens, its stories
Turn more vivid, more wrenching, more morose,
I soak it all in- the pain, the suffering, the injustice,
And colour myself, in the darkest shade of rose

My red is no ordinary red, it is the
Culmination of every sister's deep cry,
It is the crimson of anger that can only be felt,
By the cradle entrusted with preservation of life

I am full and brimming, with pangs too strong
And hues of vermilion too dark to contain,
I rock back and forth, my cot full of stories,
Twisting, flailing and writhing in pain

And then I burst out and let freely flow,
The dam I created with laments of loss and love
Painted with conversations lasting until twilight,
With my cratered friend in the skies above

Petal by petal, as I lose my form and disintegrate,
She is connected to each woman's cry that I assimilate,
Flexed at the pelvis, helpless yet so strong, she listens,
And understands the lore I sing about, every twenty-eighth.