Smoked Mirrors 2 

He stood there staring at her..taking her all in,

She ushers towards the window,

She opens up for him to enter,

She stood there in front of him bare,

Pulled him in wondering why he was there.

Hands still interlocked,

He draws her closer,

He buries his head in her neck,

She lets out a gentle breath,

He knows just how to please her.

They slowly start to gravitate towards her bed,

Mouths now connected,

Feeling each other’s longing,

She starts to tear and he gently wipes her tear away.

His hand over her derrière gripping tighter whilst the kiss deepened,

Her hands round his neck,

He picks her up and walks the rest of the distance to the bed,

Laying her down he places his body on top,

Her hands move to his belt buckle,

Undoing it with such ease yet urgency,

She grabs his shaft,

Elevating his hips she slides them down,

He struggles to kick them off whilst she ripped off his shirt,

They lay there both naked,

Staring in each other’s eyes,

Her eyes slowly expand,

He brings his lips down to hers to suck in her moan as tears drop down her face…

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Essence…

She stood staring at herself in the mirror,

Wearing a silk robe,

The material cuddling her chocolate figure,

Tagging at the belt she loosened the robe,

Gently dropping it to the ground taking a step forward to be free of it.

Still staring at the mirror yet now bald,

She began to analyse her body,

Her hands reaching up  into her short coiled hair,

A TWA is what they call it.

She calmly moves her hands over her pronounced forehead,

Thick, not your typical shape eyebrows sitting on top her glimmering eyes,

Her big brow eyes staring back at her,

The type of eyes that pull you in,

Lashes a shiny luxurious black..curled as if she had used a curler.

A pronounced nose,

Thick lips, well outlined something like in the drawings of perfect lips.

She then caresses her ears that she always felt were quite small,

Down to her neck..not as lengthy as she’d like,

The deep of her collar bone enough to hold water,

Her shoulders broader that what she liked on a woman,

Her bosom full but not quite symmetrical,

The root of her body image issues.

She paused…eyes fixed on the one part she loathed,

She mutters under her breath ‘if only they were perfect.’

A tear drops..eyes shut she continues,

She moves her hands with great difficulty,

Placing them gently on her abdomen,

She has a love hate relationship with this area,

She loved her ever flat tummy,

But hated her forever there ‘love handles’.

She slowly continues down to her..her scar so clear,

She smiled at the thought of a memory.

Slightly turning to view her derrière,

A round printed behind,

Prints like a tiger..the beauty of it all,

She adores and embraces her stretch marks,

She carries quite a heavy load.

Hips wide like her mother…she loves that,

Thick strong thighs with a cinnamon glow,

Her calves outstanding,

Her feet dainty yet steady.

Resting her palms that she feels quite big over her chest,

Her love for her fingers indescribable.

One final glimpse of her full body,

She falls in love everyday with who she is despite her imperfections,

She’s perfectly imperfect and imperfectly perfect…if that makes sense.

She grows to love her body as a whole day by day…

Her essence lies within her.