Colorful peacock ladies. Our thighs straddle-maple. We tease’s with ease. Playful tongues of fur and feathers. Areola’s dangle to touch. Guava to taste. Like a sugary sand. And we nurture soliloquy’s dripping down our chins. Pungent smells from between thighs. We pin down to catch the feeling. We love-on transitions. At times mirroring our weakness, our fears, our inability to cope. Our expressions are safe here. We take from both past and present. Love is real here. No fear here. Sweat on sweet. Love or lust we feel so much aah. No time constraints just us giving all we got. From orange moons lined with red rivers. Cross the deep or submerged beneath it. We keep it-live. Alive from each others breath.  Women. Curved. Scarred. Strong. Thick. Bones. Garbed. High. Fly. Why? Cause I love em. Gracie