I look like a Renaissance nude,
Like them I am imperfect.
The folds of the flesh fascinate me:
the too small breasts,
angular shoulders, long arms
the curve of my neck
an unending river of tan.
I feel sensuous.
Chin nested in warm skin
it throbs, I am alive, I am real.
Will there be anyone, in the future,
who will love my body as I do?