It’s Only Me
Her eyes are a tall man
in a corner of the room
reading a book in French
Her lips are freshly squeezed
orange juice
Her nose is always trying
to steal the show
Her eyebrows, those friends
who always bail last minute
Her hair , a past lover
and her now therapist
Her neck is blue velvet
Her collar bone, a string of pearls
Her breasts are a never ending
custody battle
Her belly, a horror movie
but nobody dies
Her hips are a decade of the rosary
set to salsa music
Her thighs, two lovers kissing
Her knees are granny apples
ready to be peeled
Her shins, where flowers bloom
Her calves are slices of tinned peaches
Her feet, a bag full
of broken violin strings
Her back is a night time lake
reflecting constellations
Her arms, single parents
just trying to make ends meet
Her fingers are addicts
looking for their next fix
Her laughter is a bullet proof vest
Her heart, a house cat
ready to pounce on a rattle snake
Her thoughts are a million planets
Living and Dying
Her Soul, their creator
And her bones sing to themselves
as they walk down the street.
Hazel Naughton from Ireland. Former long term karma yogi and YDC 2020 participant.
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