Midriff Malaise
softer, lacking youthful carelessness
more hillocks, less firm flesh
yet it is hers, she owns it.
There are the dark days,
when she feels betrayed
her stomach, lying there
as if a flaccid wound.
But then, it shifts
and the soft skin
feels comforting and full,
a pillow for a lover's head.
Metallic pants that thrust
her lushness upward
like a muffin top
do not tempt her.
She is not young
or old, quite yet
hers, not a life bound
nor wasted on midriff malaise.
Poem by JCK - originally posted 9/8/09
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Photo Credit: Woman in waves painting courtesy of Google Images
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We all need to remember this.
ReplyDeleteI love this poem, JCK! And I'm not normally a poem person.
ReplyDeleteThe "Metallic pants" image is awesome!
ReplyDeleteI have spent a lifetime feeling disappointed by my stomach, so this isn't really an issue for me. However, I am a little perturbed at my butt.
ReplyDelete