hold this

“Will you hold this?” I asked my spouse.

I was sitting on the bed wearing a black, lace-edged tank top, holding my right breast.  I moved toward him and let him reach into my shirt and hold my breast for me.

“Ah, thank you,” I said.  “Thank you for helping me carry my burden.”  I imagined him going around with me, holding my breasts up in his hands, lightening my load.

“Sure!” he said.

romantic situation

“I would like to create a romantic situation with you,” I said.

I kissed him and moved his other hand to my bare thigh.  The kissing felt delicious, and how he held my breast lovingly in his hand.

He kissed me back with sexual desire and love.  It was a beautiful morning moment, before breakfast, at someone else’s house.  We didn’t have time for an hour long complete sexual encounter, but I loved some sweet intimate contact at the beginning of the day.

please

Please reach under my shirt, hold my breast, help me carry these burdens I grew but did not exactly choose.  These heavy body parts are symbols of my gender, to many people–symbols of nourishment and love, stared at by thousands of men.

My breasts can be desired, separate from my entire self.  But they’re part of me, and anyone who tries to love my breasts without loving me is doing great violence.

My breasts are not separate from me.  If you think you love my breasts, but you don’t actually love me, you’re nothing better than a wolf, eating bodies.  I’m not here to be sacrificed to your appetite and sharp teeth.

If you consume me, there’s no Nest left.  I don’t grow back like a flower or mushroom fruiting body.  There’s only one of me, two breasts, and my body is mine.

prayer

Mother God, please bless me to hold onto my personal power and never hand my heart, life, or breasts over to a person who will use and exploit me.

Please help me retain all that I’ve learned, mainly that no one is better than me.  No one deserves my attention, kindness, or body more than I do.