The Art of practicing Self-Love

My pussy wants to cry.

When it cries

my eyes become so jealous 

they shut off and turn inwards to stare at my guts

to experience the rain and the release.


That sweet and tender part of my thighs 

the one you like to bite,

the one that surrounds my Flower tingles,

anxiously awaiting the downpour.

I feel as if bugs are crawling over my torso.

Waves of energy amuse my every cell

from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head.


My whole body becomes a rainforest,

with the smell of musk

and the sound of waterfalls.


My legs fold open like butterflies.

My hips— if they have paint on their edges

will trace the most beautiful flowers

with their circular, repetitive motion. 

This is how they talk.

This is how they accept.

This is how they say yes.


But why does my pussy want to cry?

Because when I love my life-birthing ecosystem,

When I recognize my creative-making potential,

it is too damn beautiful not to cry.


When my pussy cries I give birth to myself,

And it cries because

It’s the cry of joy;

it's the cry of Love.


From my book

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