An ode to her body
She didn’t know that she was shrinking herself. The clothes she wore. Too tight and too small as if she wanted it to be another size. A smaller size. To fit in. To be chosen. The way that she treated her body. She ate not to enjoy the food but as if she wanted to lose weight. She starved herself, not listening to her body's suffering.
She didn’t listen to her body but to the voices of society telling her that she had to be a certain size. Or else she wouldn’t be sexy. She wouldn’t be attractive. She wouldn’t be chosen.
This body that had carried a baby. That had carried sorrow, happiness, grief, stubbornness.
The hair of her ancestors, on top of her head as a crown, showing her that she’s regal. The face still glowing, still with that smile and soft eyes. Even after all these years. Even after all this suffering.
Her soft bosom, no longer high and taut as when she was young but still radiant, still divine.
Her soft, round belly– its skin loosened by life, by the miracle of creation. The sacred keeper of her womb. Never flat, never needing to be. Still beautiful, still worthy of awe. Her hips and bottom - full and commanding. No longer the shape of her twenties, but the kind that makes heads turn and hearts slow.
Her thighs, marked by the constellations of cellulite. Thick and strong. Rooted in the earth. Sexy and powerful. These legs that have carried her for all these years. Even when they needed rest, they carried her.
This body that has always been there for me. Always carried me. Always kept going with the help of my ancestors. I am sorry that I didn’t love you the way you needed me to love you. I see you now. I hear you now. I choose you now.
To the sensitive soul
Dear sensitive soul
I see you when you eyes glaze over while listening to beautiful music that touches your soul.
The way harsh words reach your heart and bruise your tender spirit.
I see the way this world tries to make you hard and tough,
as if closing your heart off will somehow protect you.
The jokes they make about your sensitivity -
as if mocking it could silence the depth of your feeling.
Please, beautiful spirit, don't let the world change you.
Your softness is not a flaw - it is your gift.
You notice the unspoken, you read between silences.
You hold space in rooms where no one else dares to pause.
You feel more, yes - but you see more too.
There is power in the way you care.
In the way you cry when something matters.
In the way you love with your whole being-
not half-hearted, not guarded, but fully present.
Let them say what they will.
Let them misunderstand you.
Let them call it weakness -
because they haven't yet learned the courage it takes to stay open in a world that tells you to shut down.
Welcome to Love Letters & Vignetes.
For the tender stories that live in the quiet moments.
For the letters never sent, and the love that lingers between lines.
These aren't stories.
They're soft declarations, written slowly from the heart.
It started with a DM.
Him asking her a question and her getting sucked into what he was sharing. Months goes by where they slowly peel more and more layers, revealing slowly how beautiful and raw humans can be. With time that slow love that she never thought she would experience started to blossom.
And suddenly she’s here at the airport picking him up. To take this stranger and not a stranger home with her. When they see each other, they just stand for a second looking at each other and taking each other in. He’s taller and broader than she thought. The fine lines on his face showing his age and softening his beautiful features. She’s curvier and more breathtaking than he could ever have imagined.
He takes her hand, and they walk to the cab. In the cab, there’s the nervousness and shyness of meeting each other for the first time, but also the affection of knowing each other on another level. When they get to her apartment, the tension between them intensifies until he kisses her. Slowly and with affection. That slow kiss that takes your breath away and makes your knees weak. Holding on to her like he doesn’t want to let go. When they come up for air, eyes glazed and short of breath, they know that they’re here to stay.
They sit on the couch talking until it gets dark. Slowly peeling back more layers. Showing more of themselves. Making sure that the other sees them and understands them before they fall even more. Before they open up for more love. Having learned from previous experiences. Wanting to be sure that this is the right one before they peel off another layer.
They eat sitting on the floor, facing each other. Not concerned with the little space in her apartment. Taking each other in visually. A small smile on their lips, tugging in the corners. Not really ready to give away their thoughts about each other just yet. After eating, they help each other do the dishes and clean up the kitchen with the energy of having done it before in another life.
They lay down on her sleeping sofa. Laying in each other’s arms. Falling asleep and feeling safe with each other.
The next days they kiss more and more feeling more comfortable with each other. When the third night arrives it already feels like they've known each other for several years. Souls remembering each other. The laughs more open and more relaxed. The smiles showing exactly what they think of each other. The eyes taking each other in for a longer time. The kisses lingering for a longer time. In the evening when there’s slow music playing lowly in the background, the kisses linger, and they don’t stop and can’t stop. Clothing dissapearing little by little. Him looking at her body like she’s art and a gift from heaven that he can’t believe he gets to touch. The lovemaking is slow and soft. Like he’s savouring every little piece of her. And when she comes undone in his arms she also gives in to his love. Knowing that she will always feel safe with this man.
Finito.