Sheer Black Lace

As a kid,

I imagined myself as a lion,

Beautiful and strong.

Alluring gait and sharp claws.

Strutting through the savanna,

On a steamy, hot plain.

Caring for my young,

And not taking any bullshit.

As a kid, I imagined myself as a sincere queen,

Ruling over a kingdom,

With emotional wisdom,

And chosen participants.

As I ripened,

The perception persisted and widened.

I evolved to be the neck,

The support,

The dependable,

The enduring.

In my undisputed environment of equality,

Women hold the trump card.

Women are deep and mysterious,

Layered and ever-connected.

Women are to be worshiped, majestic and precious.

Women are courage and power.

Power to seduce,

Power to make love when they want,

Power to be vulnerable and in control.

I was desired, far before I desired.

I was generous and curious.

I was naïve, but careful.

I realized my affect,

And got drunk with the capacity.

After the first backlash had scarred,

My heart was walled and pounding.

Enlarged and enraged,

I craved unconscious revenge on men,

And collected hearts along the way.

I remember strip poker, and mermaid hair.

Hot tubs, with their disguising bubbles,

And sneaking out to the school’s jungle gym,

With only the light of the moon,

To meet the equally meddlesome.

As a freshman.

I was stimulated for the first time,

In a way that I yearned.

I was given the realization that I hungered:

I finally challenged the attraction of others, with my own.

A mistress for a night,

With a destined marine.

Amazed by my passion,

And surprised by his hesitation,

He respected my body,

Despite his longing to proceed.

My kiss communicated what I was ready for,

And my hands baited at what could be.

To this day,

I choose to control and tease.

Dance and savor in the desire, I cultivate in others.

Sheer black lace,

A dress that hugs just where it should,

And a man that begs with his body.


Copyright © 2014