Dwelling Place
~a series by Leticia Tuset
Living in Comparison
I see pictures on Instagram
Of what it is to be beautiful –
Big bust
slim waist
and hips a mile wide.
Supple skin
hairless bodies,
every inch oozing
sex-wetness –
Perfectly Thick Women.
I see pictures on Instagram
Of what it is to be wanted,
but I feel unseen and
vanishable.
So pillows and fingers
placed in between legs
as I imagine myself
Desirable...
to feel something like affection…
...(not love)...
But after
I hate this cage of flesh.
It is stupid
It is a hypocrite
It is a liar
The girl in the mirror is charmless,
An outline of nothing
You might as well saw off her breasts
And sever her genitals
Because she
Will Never.
Be.
Enough.
A Ruined Temple
She feels distant from herself,
Distant from God,
a ruined temple.
The fibres are hollow,
The sinews are weak,
The pillars are crumbling.
Let them crumble.
Let her cavernous dark
Be pierced with light,
A light that fills her
Warms her.
A Light that shines.
The Lies I Used to Live By
People don’t notice me.
Boys don’t notice me.
I’m not good enough to be noticed.
Being sexy is important.
Sex appeal is high self-esteem.
If he wants to have sex with me,
that’s a compliment.
More Power To Her
If her butt is bigger than mine,
God bless her.
If her hair is silkier than mine,
How wonderful.
If she’s got a laugh that fills up the room,
snaps for that.
If she’s got style,
Yes, Queen!
If there’s something in her I envy,
turn it to Admiration,
Celebration,
Appreciation.
Lift her up and I will be lifted
‘Til all of us are
Arm in arm.
In The Image of God
No one has a voice
like I do –
Humming, I speak sonnets.
What flows from my mouth
Is fluid as water.
No one frames their face
like I do –
With soft sideburns
Laying down graciously
Curling up gloriously
Yes, I love them,
Because they are mine.
No one’s hands match
My stitching.
The graceful digits
Long and lovely,
The palm
Perfectly cupped.
My body is no mistake,
No half-finished work.
No one else
Could wear me better