Baby,
For three years, I carried you in the womb of me. Every day, you lived in my fantasies.
Until one day, I bled unannounced. And felt you die inside of me.
A body that for this precious moment is abandoned by my own autonomy. I am his extension to do with what he likes. He is my master, but a servant to the song. I am limited in my experience, never formally learned. But my body remains supple with the knowledge of other movements, and so men delight in folding me inside out, in front of judgmental eyes to see.
Until now, it had been a safe space to abandon myself to men. It was sex without penetration. It was intimacy without vulnerability, but the journey of shedding facades led me to this fateful day. The rise of the sun illuminates what remains hidden in the dark. And on a pre-century ship with so many strange faces, I felt my body return back to me in defeat.
My thoughts protruded from beneath the rhythms induced coma, and I felt only the shallow depth of this blue sea.
Never before did the feeling of emptiness arise in offering my body over to another to be handled with a grace they could not provide.
I meant to worship in this music, and had in all this time succumbed myself to following the wrong God.
The same movement, repeated over and over again. Being passed down the field from these hands into those. And the gaping emptiness spread from my throat to my toes, until my body tightened to its lead. And I refused to bend and comply to my own false belief.
I said goodbye with the rising sun. I stood in the dark blue dawning and watched the many motions circle and vibrate in unison, knowing that my path lay elsewhere from this pursuit.