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Why must beauty be gentle?

Soft, pure, pastel, and delicate…

Can I not be striking, spectacularly singular?

Purple and white, a brilliant streak of energy

Tearing the sky in two and bolting down the sides.

I want to be a blazing fire; an inferno that burns away,

Not into a temperate pool of gray haze and nothingness,

But into incandescent embers

And anxious tinder that awaits re-ignition.

Behold the rose I grasp in my hand.

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Childhood Imaginings

I imagined myself a porn star.

I imagined my body that of a siren;

Gleaming with the sheen of manufactured sweat.

I imagined myself nude but cloaked in the armor of modern Amazons;

Mile high platform stilettos and a G-string.

I imagined myself with hair perfectly styled like it’s the “morning after”.

I imagined myself with a pair of tits that someone finds delicious.

I imagined myself your man’s every fantasy.

I imagined myself strong and self-assured.

I imagined the red of my lips a declaration Continue reading