Dear body,

 

Oh, I see.
Your face fell.
Literally.
Oh my.
Gravity has gotten the better of you my dear.
Or shall we just call it gravitas?

Resiliently you bear my pain.
You hide my wounds,
the weight and strain
until
You dismay me 
and betray me.

See?
How easily you tire.
How fragile you are.
Even with that spare tire (or two).

(I’m heartened knowing
that
in famine you’ll outlive them)
You are, after all, a woman of substance.

But 
You are soft and warm.
And sometimes sweet.
“Beloved,” he says 
as he touches your cheek.

So I think I’ll keep you.

 

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