My Lips

Bold.

Beautiful.

Black.

My Lips.

An illustrious amalgamation of shades ranging pouty-pink to a delectably sweet chocolate brown; glistening mahogany in the sun, so abundant and round.

Though I love my almond eyes, firm thighs and broad hips, God blessed me tenfold when tenderly molding these Lips.

Full of wisdom unwritten. Secrets untold. My heritage & soul, smitten. Evident in every crease and crevice.

In my reflection, genetic adherence sculpts the uncanny appearance of my 3x Great grandmother’s Lips; labeled a slave, no less of a woman. Her beauty unblemished though she toils in the sun, victim to sweltering heat. Lips beaded with sweat, like leaf-tips in Spring.

So when those stubborn beads of sweat gather beneath my own nose, I'm reminded that the thirst of a Rose is quenched with cleansing liquid.

We are all water at times.

We are Nature's Women. Through & through. Core to the roots. With hips that bear life, hands that produce fruit & lips with the power to soothe or doom with a single kiss.

Protruding from their facial canvas as if they await to fly away like Doves.

I want to share them with My Love; blow him Super-Deluxe Fudge Hershey kisses..and giggle as he scurries to catch them, for he dare not miss it!

For these Lips ease Him, like the illumination of a full moon.

So beautifully inviting, like a flower in full bloom. He just can't wait to pollinate; to water & wade among the moist waves conveyed when these Lips part ways to him.

Brush skin like wind; so delicate, yet prominent. The endless allure.

Their likeness etched in ancient stone to be sure.

Thick noses & lips become ridiculed & degraded; Queens & Pharoahs defaced, obliterated.

Later coveted & imitated. Never neatly duplicated.

My my my these Lips!

I shant forget their Origin.

My Mother.

Beautiful like the Sun. Too bright for bare eyes but can’t live without her shine.

These lips of ours, of mine, they transcend time.