the men in our life had taught us
that our body was a wishing well
to be used as they pleased.
but i tell you,
we were not built to feed the men,
they do not starve with desire for love,
they starve with lust.
your body is a holy temple,
and when you find someone with the right kind of hunger,
make them praise it.
grow the roots from inside your blood,
and sprout a garden.
keep the weeds out,
and find someone who makes your daisies grow.
find someone who gives you a thirst,
for their forbidden fruit.
YOU ARE READING
Climbing Mountains
Poetryin the darkest days, we will have nothing, we turn to poetry, in hopes of something. take a seat, and find your peace, in my words. maybe you and I can share, heartbreak, happiness, anything there is to share. give your soul a rest, allow it to mend...
