Confessions of a libra

Credit: Here

13.05.25

I felt the familiar electrical hum in my cells. The one that speaks to sacral chakra activation. I turned my bedroom light off, revealing the candles I had previously lit. The scent of the evening was vanilla and coconut. The room flickered in ambient lighting and I felt a giddiness. This was my time. I crawled onto the bed and turned to face my mirror. I sat with arms behind me for leverage and both legs spread evenly. I upraised myself. My brown skin was shimmering from the mixture of lotion and body oil. The room smelt absolutely divine and I got a tingle in my toes just thinking about the scrumptiousness of the moment. Oh how long it had taken to be able to really see myself in the mirror without flinching. Without the urge to correct or change. Without worry.

I grabbed my favourite sensual oil from the bedside table. I poured some on my chest generously. My hands slid down slowly and devotionally. I rubbed, moulded and pinched anywhere that felt natural. I even caught myself moaning. I remembered all the times that I had felt too self conscious to truly be in my body, enjoying it. All the times I had felt pressured to moan as ghostly programming gripped my throat, making me override my instinct. Now, years later I could enjoy myself. With time, and patience. With reverence. My breath hitched as I watched the woman I’d become. The sacred woman. The sexy woman.