FEAR

 She lays naked. Clean. Fan blowing on her slightly damp, butter moisturized skin. Hands, exploring. Touching, searching every mound, hill, valley, curve, bump, and dimple of her milk chocolate skin.

Looking for the answer. Where is the fear? Where is the fear to be found? Where is the fear to be found in skin that looks like this?

Is the fear in the glorious shades of melanin, a gift by the mighty Creator? Is the fear in the deepness of the soul, that cries out at the treatment it receives? Is the fear in the kinks if the hair, as it grows up and out reaching and defying gravity? Is the fear in the insightfulness of the eyes, as they see what others do not? Is the fear in the broadness of the nose, regal in it shape? Is the fear in the plumpness of the lips, that speak truth and wisdom? Is the fear in the fullness of the breasts, that protect the passion of the heart? Is the fear in the curvature of the hips, that move with purpose with the walk? Is the fear in the buttocks, the side giving when fucks are no more? Is the fear in the legs, holding up against the odds? Is the fear in the feet, their steadfastness that carries on and on and on?

Or maybe the fear is between the legs. The place where generations spring forth. Generations that were never expected to be.

-CLBP