Breasts
10:56 PM Posted In My Poetry Edit This 0 Comments »
If my breast could speak, they would say,
“Please don’t ogle.”
“Look at my face when I speak to you.”
“They are called breasts, not boobs, tits, boobies, tata’s, headlights, jugs?”
If my breasts could think, they would ask for,
Acceptance, despite whatever size and shape they come in.
Strawberries, peaches, coconut or papaya.
If my breasts could feel, they would long for,
Tenderness, through self love.
If my breasts could hear, let these be the words (especially from my mate),
You are beautiful, as nature have made you to be.
If my breasts had an ambition, it would surely be,
To nurse my little baby, suckling happily on my nipples
Knowing that they bring comfort to another little being,
Instead of being ornamental or a disappointment.
If my breasts had a choice, they would choose to be,
Healthy and normal.
In conjunction with Breasts Cancer Week.
Bless the hearts of those who have survived.
“Please don’t ogle.”
“Look at my face when I speak to you.”
“They are called breasts, not boobs, tits, boobies, tata’s, headlights, jugs?”
If my breasts could think, they would ask for,
Acceptance, despite whatever size and shape they come in.
Strawberries, peaches, coconut or papaya.
If my breasts could feel, they would long for,
Tenderness, through self love.
If my breasts could hear, let these be the words (especially from my mate),
You are beautiful, as nature have made you to be.
If my breasts had an ambition, it would surely be,
To nurse my little baby, suckling happily on my nipples
Knowing that they bring comfort to another little being,
Instead of being ornamental or a disappointment.
If my breasts had a choice, they would choose to be,
Healthy and normal.
In conjunction with Breasts Cancer Week.
Bless the hearts of those who have survived.
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