You touch her in ways she could never.
She wants you to drink from her springs,
Trail through her mountain tops
And take shelter in her caves.
As your fingers are making its way to discover more of her.
She cannot help but moan,
Earthquakes start quivering inside of her,
Till her tsunamis explodes.
And it took you by surprise.
You didn’t expect the pungent waterfall gushing through.
She could read disgust in your eyes.
She could sense aversion in your touch.
“Pungent and off icky” you said.
She was uncomfortable.
Uncomfortable of her essence
Uncomfortable of her worth.
Uncomfortable in her being a woman.
You still wanted to forinicate.
But she didn’t want coitus.
Because she was doubting her womanhood.
coition was more intamite than anything else.
She couldn’t force herself to do something she didn’t want to.
Not after all that she’s been through.
The memories are still jarring
most nights she still cries herself to sleep.
So she did what she knew best.
She was told that is what her mouth was only good for.
That’s how she was made silent,
For all these years,
Unable to speak, unable to tell.
She shuts her eyes and holds her breath
She doesn’t look at you.
Her eyes filling up with tears.
Her mouth moving in muscle memory.
Your filthy erosion in her mouth.
She swallows your double standards.
And without a word
She cries her self to sleep.”- Natasha noel
Practice daily. Stay safe. Stay humble.