there are so many women who live within me: i am not lonely.

the women with me here in this body, in this minds reach, are strong and they are cowardice, they are loud and silent, they are fire and freeze,
they are myself.

i adopt new women as they are birthed from the earth and sounds become action in the room around me.

woman rises from black coffee, hot and bitter and good.

woman crawls from the mouth of heavy southern accent poetry as its spit into a microphone,
she is honest and new and shaken.

but

the women i am most lovingly taking into my body are the women born from mans imagination.

i am watching the apparation of her as man scans my figure, he is adding the pretty like sugar and ignoring the folds and pinpricks that don’t fit her figure. once he has worked from the ground up and is crowing her with a mind focused on his needs and desires, the chorus from my throat rips through, her smirk becomes snarl, and man has lost interest in the woman he has made because suddenly she is not his.

orphan pretty woman come to me, we round character, we fill minds, we comfort. pretty woman you are one of the ones within me now, we will make you ugly, we will make you whole.