To you I sway like sweet waves of honey,
and though the way my hips move to unheard music has you hypnotized,
there’s more to me than curves to trace with your hands.
My value isn’t in the skin underneath your fingertips as you reach out to touch what tempts you.
Lingering there will not collect my worth, and you cannot kiss me enough to make it known to me.
I do not find value in your arms,
but my space in your bed is not my worth.
Nor is my space in your heart.
Love me for my body
and the way it fits in the grooves of yours and the way we glide together into each parcel of space.
Love me for the familiar scent of my
skin when you
close in on my neck.
Love me for the heart that
is pressed to yours
and the love you know it has for you—
not because I have told you
but from the undeniable richness of
our colliding energy,
the way your bones know the elixir
of their own marrow.
Love that it is safe here
and our unwavering honesty—
never has anything we cannot see
been so true.
Love me for the way I tease your mind
with my thoughts,
and how our dueling perspectives
amplify our senses.
But know that no amount of
attraction will detail my worth.
That while you place value on me,
and I on you
this love is not an exchange.
I do not give you my body,
touch my lips to yours,
feel my bones quake
because to be held by you
makes me worth something.
is flattering and
but I am not validated by it.
I am worth just as much with any of that as with nothing at all;
is in my Self
and the purity of my being alive at all—just as yours
should be to you.
Author: Tiffany Anderson
Apprentice Editor: Jessica Chardoulias; Editor: Travis May
Image: Flickr/ Maximilian.M