I am more than just a body.
I am more than my breasts that rest like Chocolate Hills on an island that’s made out of volcanoes. My breasts are not here for you to climb a hundred and six steps and just take a good picture with it. They’re not here just to be your stress balls when your boss beats the shit out of you, or your dumbbells when your friends tell you don’t look manly enough. My breasts are not here just to become your momma when you need her the most and leave them when you are already fine all by yourself. Boy, I am more than my breasts and though there are times when I have to wear bras with thick foams because of insecurity, of fear that they are just enough for a child and not for a man, still, when I touch them I think of how greater I am to give something to a life that you never could.
I am more than my lips that taste like strawberries in the open field of Bemwa. My lips are not here for you to fish ego-boosting words from, or for you to bite them just to prove to yourself that you can be a wolf even when you’re just feeling like a puppy out in the cold. They’re not here to kiss your scars and heal them then you go find another mistake knowing someone would always be there to be your doctor. My lips are not here just to become a lullaby that sings you ahs, ohs and sexy moans for you to sleep when you’re drunk of alcohol or of lust. Goddamn, they’re here to fucking blow your minds instead of just giving you blowjobs. Boy, I am more than my lips and even though most days I cover them with lipsticks with different shades to hide the remnants of cigarettes, or when its skin cracks in the most excruciating way, still, when I bite and lick them and look at it at the mirror I think of how lucky those men I’ve kissed because these lips are way more honest than the words that come out of it.
I am more than my butt that looks like two planets when Jason Derulo sings for it. My butt is not here to cheer you up with the way it wiggles when you’re alone and bored, or for you to drum your hands at when you’re devastated about your lost dream of becoming a band member. It’s not here to just face you when you’re fucking me senselessly after swiping right on that shitty dating app, or when you can’t stand looking at my face because you’re thinking about someone else. My butt is not here just to become a pedal when we’re having sex that if you want me to ride you faster, you’d hit me again and again. No, these two mounds are not here for you to hold tightly when you’re close to heaven and just let go of like how you outgrew your hotdog pillows. Boy, I am more than my butt and though it took ages and pails of sweat to achieve this curve, or that I suck at finding jeans to flatter my behind, still, when I wear a bikini I feel proud of the lines and stretch marks that remind me how far I’ve come to be a better person.
I am more than my vagina that is as deep as the Mariana’s Trench. My vagina is not a tourist spot where you can visit anytime for a vacation, and won’t always welcome you back after you came to another home. It’s not here to be just a commodity you can buy in thrift shops, worse when you get it for free after you do a bit of sales talking. My vagina is not here for you to enter it endlessly and leave me hanging the next day, or a trash can where you spill your shit in because you are a shitty person. God, this cabinet is not a doorway to Narnia to look for some adventures when you’re trying to escape from this cruel world. Boy, I am more than my vagina and though you are not the first king of this kingdom, or if it seems to you that I am more Hades than Hera, still, I want you to know that I haven’t fucked anyone because I’ve been making love with boys like you, but most of the time with myself.
Photo by @petrafcollins (IG)