Written by Shelly Moore
© 2021 LimitlessStimulus.com
Photo by Marcel Gross
Long, silken hair void of chaos and knots.
A petite waist, buxom chest,
an ass that’s apple skin taut.
Perfect in photos; makes other men drool.
Is this what it takes to be enough for you?
My laugh is spirited, animated,
Obnoxiously loud and quite proud.
Sarcasm flows through these veins,
This wit and humor have entertained crowds.
My vocabulary is described
As both vast & profane;
If your skin’s thin and mind’s dull
(You poor, simple soul),
I’ll likely offend you within a matter of days.
Eyes as green as olives from a grove;
A smile that lights up ten miles, as flies the crow.
My mind infinite, bottomless, sharp as an arrow;
You’ve witnessed the deck of my ship,
Never the precious cargo below.
“Men love with their eyes,”
We’re reminded over and over again.
“Keep your figure in check,
if you want to reel a good one in.”
“Yes, dear, especially now that you’re older,
Now that you’re war torn and worn,
Childbearing days are long gone,
And for heaven’s sake smile –
No one likes the forlorn!
“Yes! Chin up, buttercup!
Tuck those emotions away.
Your partner needs optimism from you
At the end of his day.
“That’s right, listen to us –
We’ve been ‘round long enough to know,
The things that attract worthy partners
To come serenade you at your window.”
And I reply –
“But.. a man my age has already started to sag.
His hair’s likely thinned and his eyes hold the same heavy bags.
I would think, even hope, his soul’s just as weary as mine;
Why on earth would I want to drink an underaged wine?”
“I want sacred, settled scars, uncovered and deep!
I want to embrace a grown man that can openly weep!
I want someone who is as real as it gets;
I’m deeply attracted, you see, to flaws which create soul-level depth.”
“I want someone who doesn’t hide any part of who they are,
Who cares not what you think and rebelliously embraces the eccentric and bizarre.
I want someone who could give less than a shit about what you think,
Anything less, quite frankly, I see as unattractive and weak.”
And they say to me –
“You live in a fantasy land, my dear dreaming girl.
We, too, once desired all that you crave and more from the world.
But you’ll soon come to realize you must settle or starve;
The real world gives only dirt, not clay, from which to carve.”
And I say to them –
“Our world was carved by the thoughts of our sisters and mothers,
From the hardworking hands of our fathers and brothers.
But today is my day and this is my time,
And what I want most in life is a finely aged wine.”