Imperfections
My armour
Bullseye to my blade
Imbedding deep
For pains I weep
Hungry teeth skewer muscle
My teeth
Because comparisons hurt
Blood stained spit, trickles
Wiped away by fingers ashamed
My skin welded to bone
Flames I turned upon myself
Ash caught by earth
Onto layers of prayer
Spoken by our grandmothers, for saviour
Yet still we cry
Generations silenced by promises
Morphing contractions, nothing changes
Woman whipped by ‘rear of the year’
Tits out
Swollen perfections
And stretched ideals
Suck on what you see
But so much more are we
Fresh eyes
Curious cries
Birthed from woman
And fierce love
Scares many
So imperfections
Are my sweet spot
To love
Loving what be
Saves from shame
The dampening weapon
When really
Imperfection has no form
No right or wrong
No weak or strong
Only the human
Being as best they can
The woman, the man
So my imperfections
Once my armour to blame
No more
No point to score
I am beautiful
No blame or shame for that.
