I live on an island of a dream
My joy is his trajectory
His eyes are the only skies I need
His love is the only fruit I eat
I taste him in seasons
I kiss him in the trillions
I lean on the shoulders of meaning
I cling to the shores of his breathing
I rest my plight in the palm of his hand
For his every touch is the promise land
And it’s finally a journey I can understand
For this is the mission fate had planned
And on and on and on we go together
Every step with you I’m feeling better
Every hug from you feels like my shelter
Hurting you is never in the weather
© Delia Ross. 2019
Imo, when one looks their worse shouldn’t they also be craved the most. Imagine if this was the case, how much greater everything else might taste- no matter what time of night or day it becomes.
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Ideally I want to be worshipped 24/7, (even messy without my makeup or fancy clothing). But there are people who say I look bad because of my pale skin and freckles. There’s nothing fake on me. No tans, nails, boobs, hair, nothing. 100% all natural and so boys look me over constantly because I don’t look like a Barbie.
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I Don’t blame you. Being authentic isn’t always palatable to most, especially boys that prefer an unrealistic woman found in retouched pictures. The same boys that trade the old model off for a younger one every couple months.
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