(or Ode to My Citrus Fruit Scented Shaving Cream)
If my shaving cream were a person, she would have flawless skin. Something of a darker tone and no blemishes. When the light would hit her, gold will shine from her face. Her hands would be gentle and her fingers would be graceful. Of course she'd have no hair on her arms or legs or under arms or vagina.
Of course she'd also always smell like mango.
Her skin would be so soft and smooth that everytime I would try to hold her she would slip out and leave my arms empty. She'd sing me songs in different languages so then I would always have another mystery to untwist from her mouth.
We'd run through fountains together holding hands and feed bread crumbs to birds on benches, soaking wet. Everyone will stop and stare when we start dancing to the bird song together on the sidewalk.
At late at night we would go home. Take a shower. Watch old thrillers cuddled up on the couch. She would tell me all of her favorite parts of today. Then fall into a sleep so gentle and warm.
I have learned that men won't leave me as smooth and soft as she would at the end of the day.
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Fragmentation
PoetryFragmentation// the process or state of breaking or being broken into small or separate parts. ××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××× It's hard for me to complete my poems. And I finally decided to share some of my poetry with strangers. These...
