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A poem about a little girl's desire to have big breasts



She laughs till her gut pangs

and till her breasts sprang

She assured me someday it will grow

and that's when the community affirms

me to wear bras for them to suit an art

that day I won't be a girl, perhaps a woman

I was hinted of her breasts every day

for she wore dawn-tinted bras so pretty 

she proclaims with unending sighs

it is required to attract men;

it is required to be called a woman 

dear vagina endures a space

it is planted sincerely inside

but the breasts are like hearts

they are open and obvious 

open to be touched

open to be felt 

open to be embraced

Your breasts are supposed 

to be frozen and fleshy

plump orbs very like attractive butts

Mumma said I became a woman 

when thick blood flowered between my thighs 

No Mumma! I oppose, the cousin said 

it is when my boobs turn round and full



Crack was the sound of a tight slap 

chah! was the sound of aunties watching 

but my breasts, nevermore grown 

while some taunt yours are lemons

while others taunt yours are gooseberry

tuck in any socks to cheat, trick it's substantial

still they say I own petty change, and it's dull 

but the cousins' cuddled in warmth

she can confer on her deep cleavage

miss nosy stays to examine me

does it even weigh a gram girl?

she scoffs concerning mine, saying

discern, gentlemen will never desire you

for they will neither express echoes

nor draw the intricate biology of sex 

I scream with no sound by dusk

to the breasts through thoughts

Reaching up amidst noisome cousins

I remember short and scarce 

to enjoy my wholesome self

I nap with blurs and perceive

little, loud, or lavish as you receive

Never worry facing a mirror

some may swing you permit 

some may sing you permit 

some may stand still you permit 

cry for those who talk to you 

not for those who talk to breasts 

let it be itty rather bitty 

let it never choke you 

don't ever regret 

simply fall asleep, serene. 

Eshwari is figuring out writing and loves discovering stories in people. On some nights she writes, on some days she tells stories. A 20-year-old student of Bengaluru who enjoys stalking people in government buses. She blogs here.
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