Imperfection

Early mornings remind me of memories not yet made my cup of coffee like a warm embrace steam rising against the optimism of a blue sky I am a women inadequately defined there are the bold lines the ones that trace the contours of my skin deep grooves against my being mother companion friend but underneath the muscle and sinew of my tactile reality lies the deep blue of my blood untouched constantly moving the solid fragments of bone and marrow forging an alliance with my heartbeat I still have yet to sit here within the dark spaces and love the fearsome silence I still avert my eyes to the sight of my own abundant flesh the valleys of my own opulence refusing to accept this body the way it is and the way it was beautiful in all its blaring imperfections my skin stretched and pillaged remnants from a battle bravely won.