My Belly

pudge

Dare I say that I love my belly…

“I love my Belly..”

Although, I haven’t had one in awhile.  I do now…. though brief; primarily from a monthly bloat…. but a BELLY nonetheless.

A Belly
-of Fullness
-of comfort
-of laxness

A Belly reflective of too much wine and cake
A Belly of too much laughter and late night folly

A nice bulge of roundness and suppleness..looseness and slouch

A plucked freedom from strictness and conservativeness. Relieved of restraints and firmness.

No high planks or sit ups. Not tight or tucked. A belly, my belly.

Out of my box for a moment…

A defiant Belly that says..”I don’t care right NOW! I’m tired, I’ll care (maybe) tomorrow.

A Belly that waits for TV and would rather eat than starve.

Plump and full, content and resurrected..For now..

I’ll be back on my self-proclaimed, perfectly created, road of perdition tomorrow…

(Maybe)

RED DOOR

Image credit: DesignBuzz

Breaking, cracking, sinking, sunk.

Dunked, and stuck.

Stagnate and unmovable.

Red Door. Locked. No entry.

Neon green. Bright and effervescent.

Feverish, flailed and flipped

Back door. Enter. Unseen, Uncared, gaped and black.

Unashamed and free

They all scuffle through

A busy highway..the bustling metro…a crowded stairway. Locked and chained.

Crippled and drunk

stiff drinks and creased pants

lipsticks and compacts

short skirts and broken zippers

clean mirrors with foggy reflections

a peek from the corner

Midnight black lash, curled and fluffed

Her eyes, dark lined and smudged

an out-of-place mole, Dangled peacock feather

and fringed waist

a rip of netted stocking and red patent leather shoes

Butterfly Wings flap at shoulders

wet chins

sour lips

and dirty collars

empty pockets

dew dropped glasses

bare floor

silent jukebox

her arm in my sleeve..

vacant stairway, empty metro and deserted highway

One key

Red Door…Open