i have seen my reflection
a thousand, thousand times
checking myself in mirrors
whenever i pass by
adjusting my hair
straighting my clothes
fixing my make up
i'm a girl
it's what we do

mirrors provide the
perfect window
through which to
examine ourselves
we see faults
we look for flaws
we find imperfections

i need mirrors
less and less
these days
my imperfections
are too many to count
and i couldn't
possibly adjust
for every one
i know what
i look like
i have no need
for that particular
window these days

i have dark unruly hair
skin paler than a fish
eyes the exact color
of green olives
(now that's sexy)
full lips that are uneven
and a jaw line that
most men would envy
but not admire on a girl

i am not old
but the blush
of youth
faded with
the birth
of my
third child

and there is
a layer of
softness that
covers the
muscles i use
in caring for
my children
and home

gravity has had
nearly 4 decades
to pull on my body
and it's starting
to gain momentum

you tell me
i'm beautiful
and i laugh
love is blind
in deed

you take my hand
and lead me to
the mirror
you frame my
face between
your hands and
make me look
at myself

my wild hair
becomes a soft halo
as you run
your fingers through it
my dark eyes deepen
and reveal unexpected
flecks of gold
you trace the bones
of my face
outlining the hint of
my cherokee heritage
i curve my uneven lips
into that half smile
that drives you wild
and i can see the
confident sensuality

you pull off my shirt
and remove my bra
revealing my
pale, pale skin
unkissed by the sun
and it glows
like the surface of a pearl

you cup the weight
of my breasts and
i see the blush of my nipples
darken as they tighten
in response to your caress

i see gentle
swells and shadows
belying my belief
that i have
no muscle tone
you trace the shadows
drawing my eye to
the valley that runs
between my breasts
down my stomach
widening to a pool
at the jewel adorning
my naval and
continuing down
my abdomen
gently creasing
that soft pillow
of femininity that
no amount of
sit ups will
erase

you flatten your hands
across my stomach
and slide them outward
to cup the curve
of my hips
as you dig your fingers
into that soft flesh
that i abhor
you pull me against you
and i can feel
your arousal as
you lean close and
whisper in my ear
'beautiful'

i don't laugh
as i can't breathe
through the longing
that rolls around
and through me
i see myself
not through
the eyes of
a critical woman
but of a man
who holds all
he desires
in the palm
of his hands

08/16/2007

Posted on 08/16/2007
Copyright © 2024 Genevieve Sturrock