Zero for all the times I’ve let myself be broken

10 over 10. that’s how i see myself. flaws don’t subtract, mistakes don’t deplete and the past sure as hell hasn’t reduced. i’m complete. as i was yesterday and would be tomorrow. a full well rounded 10. God made me an A and then adding all my drama and expressiveness, a plus for full effect.

they say a cat has 9 lives, and then i think why not a cockroach. those things never die. all squashed with juices flowing and still they move. they find that strength to move again. you wake up and find them gone from the spot you thought you had maimed them. guess who else still rises no matter what life brings? me. Nims of 9 lives. Nims of 9 hearts. Nims of many failures but still conquering, still being, still living. Still Nims.

8 for this blessed figure God made me in — how he knew to sculpt me perfectly with this chocolate brown tender fabric, to enclose a heart as deep and wild as mine in it. 8 for the figure of mine that houses untold pleasure — my hips well formed, they sway in perfection. my breast well rounded, pleasure is discovered on their tips. in between my thighs lies a deep well of indescribable joy. 8 because my perfect body would teach you how to love it if you listen.

there are 7 days in a week, and at the beginning of one such week twenty something years ago, i was born. 7, a number that stands for perfection, and the day God looked at everything he had made and saw it was good. how then can you say i’m not enough when i was birthed on the day that perfection was complete. you know nothing.

6 for the amount of days i would work. 6 for the amount of days i would toil for the morrow. 6 days without complaint, each sweat, a seed for a better tomorrow. 6 days because on the seventh i would see that all is a good and rest.

this hand that hold yours. this hand with its 5 fingers. fingers that trace your scars while you sleep. fingers that can wipe every tear off your face should you ever cry. fingers that can soothe your fears, knead your tired bones, bring pleasure to you when the mouth and thighs are weary. 5 perfect fingers on each hand.

love, that 4 letter word, that so elusive 4 letter word, that almost broke me, flattened me, turned me to a shadow of myself, while i cried and cried for it in the hands of another till i realized that self love is the most important love of all.

at the tender age of 3, i experienced the first taste of rejection.

they say 2 become one

waiting for the 1

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