Sometimes I'm tempted to see if I would float if I jumped, both feet in, no hesitation. Would I sink because I'm so heavy to hold? Do you wish I was built like her, perfectly proportioned, sexy body, making life, so easy to love? I don't have the excuse of motherhood to explain why my thighs have texture, why my arms are shaped this way, or why it takes effort to lift me. I wonder if you wish I was like her, full lips, loved by the camera, smiling because she knows it. Every hair in place, outfits put together by the perfect eye, jeans hugging her hips so right, curves like a Grecian statue. It's hard not to love her, even I imagine how she must've looked in that dim lighting, smokey hue around her perfect face. But I can't say I'd look the same; I don't fare as well in places where men pay for what's supposed to be sacred.
Oooouuuu powerful!