I never Kept my nudes with me

Yesterday I asked all my inamoratos
to send me nudes, unspoken, bereft of the light of the days gone past
my nudes, a photography exhibit/contest at 3AM, hungry and wet, unprompted
not stranded whips and mushrooms
but fruits and pimple pumpkins -boobs and butt, the risqués
completely unidentifiable (no face, tattoos, or marks proving it's me)- but
still everyone else, really, working hard on angles and sex appeal, a repository of desperation at
making receivers happy

Yesterday, men replied back
saying they don't have the nudes
they deleted me, first my nudes,
hiding it from everyone they knew, even themselves, for a long time
even before their wives knew, their marriages knew
then they deleted all the other clickbaits, where I wore makeup, where I was hiding my fat,
where I had cut myself, but first, nudes

Didn't they know that I knew I was ugly
didn't they think that I had like to admire my ugliness when I turn 50
aroused about the idea of them still salivating over my near-naked body, ugly

Shalini mastered Laws only to realize that she was a better poet and writer. She has been published in Kitaab.org, Anatomy Of The Heart And Mind, Poetically. She reviews books for Southern Review Of Books, Queens MFA, and breathes good music, coffee and trips in India. She posts everyday on her safe space- IG- @belladonnaoflavender. You can DM her to ask what her username means or talk about books.