Body Language

I’m not perfect, nor was I meant to be.

When it started was when you first saw me. My body talked. She told you things you wanted to understand more deeply, readily. She talked, laughed, looked at you like she was made for you, perhaps, just you.

Your eyes figured her into oblivion. The form of creation was right there in front of you. She overtook your thoughts like a cannon plowing your hull.

You could’ve sunk, but for her. She saved you, her buoyant hips became your lifesaver.

Her lips your lifeboat, her eyes, your lifeline.

Ashore, you became a pirate looking to bury your treasure.

She became the island, the whole damn thing.

You ate her. You touched her all over. She touched you. You dug hole after hole, looking for that perfect spot to put that “X”.

You laid down on top of her at night, looking from beneath the palm leaves she grew.

You both looked at the stars You then would look at her and she would look at you.

One day, you found the perfect spot. Excited, you dug hard and fast. You left all that gold inside her. And walked away.

She became a body.

That body belongs to me.

And she’s got all that booty now inside her.

And someone else has the map.

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