Be a lady
Don't write about craving
Don't write about craving
Don't write about desire
Don't write about lust
You look at yourself in the mirror and you remember your mother, not the reflected image, you swim,you exercise, still... the words: "My self image is not complying with the reflection in the mirror". You did not understand it then, you do now. You laugh, you remember your mom. You look at your naked self in the mirror and you try to be nice to the changes of time. You can like what you see at times, but what you see is not what once was. You tell your husband: "if I had a mind like this when I was twenty I would have left no stone unturned". He smiles. You think of how self-conscious, how mean to your young self you were, how abusive you were to that reflection in the mirror.
You can still be mean, but you know so much more about yourself now. You write, you undress body and soul and you let the world know it cannot tell you what to feel, what to do. You warn it, loud and clearly: "Do not tell me not to write about craving, do not tell me not to talk about desire, not to speak about lust. I know more about desire now then that girl from twenty years ago."
Your eyes, so aware of beauty, are filled with tears at the sight of a leaf falling slowly off a tree, swinging back and forth with the wind, touching the ground with a caress. You feel the smoothness of lips touching the skin of your cheek, lips that press it softly, yet firmly, and one second becomes a minute, of goosebumps and heartbeats. The moment lasts an age and an age is but a second.
You know more about lust then twenty years ago. The different weighs of a body on top of yours, skins brushing against each other, the different smells, the sweat, the taste of the sweat, like the taste of salt in your body during a day at the beach. You know of the movements, how they can be similar to the butterfly stroke of a perfect swimmer, how they can make you breathless and speechless, how your face can burn and your body happily collapse. Or else, how you can be left in lonely and quiet despair, craving for what was not, eyes open, sleepless.
They say you should not talk about those things, you are a mother. They hope you will become invisible as you grow older. They hope. They've told you you would scare men away if you showed them what you think and they tell you, still, that it would be so much nicer if you just behaved like a lady. You would be so much nicer, they say. But a lady has no craving, a lady needs no lust, a lady should have no desires. And seriously, who wants to be a lady?
You can still be mean, but you know so much more about yourself now. You write, you undress body and soul and you let the world know it cannot tell you what to feel, what to do. You warn it, loud and clearly: "Do not tell me not to write about craving, do not tell me not to talk about desire, not to speak about lust. I know more about desire now then that girl from twenty years ago."
Your eyes, so aware of beauty, are filled with tears at the sight of a leaf falling slowly off a tree, swinging back and forth with the wind, touching the ground with a caress. You feel the smoothness of lips touching the skin of your cheek, lips that press it softly, yet firmly, and one second becomes a minute, of goosebumps and heartbeats. The moment lasts an age and an age is but a second.
You know more about lust then twenty years ago. The different weighs of a body on top of yours, skins brushing against each other, the different smells, the sweat, the taste of the sweat, like the taste of salt in your body during a day at the beach. You know of the movements, how they can be similar to the butterfly stroke of a perfect swimmer, how they can make you breathless and speechless, how your face can burn and your body happily collapse. Or else, how you can be left in lonely and quiet despair, craving for what was not, eyes open, sleepless.
They say you should not talk about those things, you are a mother. They hope you will become invisible as you grow older. They hope. They've told you you would scare men away if you showed them what you think and they tell you, still, that it would be so much nicer if you just behaved like a lady. You would be so much nicer, they say. But a lady has no craving, a lady needs no lust, a lady should have no desires. And seriously, who wants to be a lady?
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