Untitled 4/ The woman

She dresses up,
She is clear of a purpose.

Men like her; there are no ambiguities
It’s an honest relationship;
No inexplicable games.

She’s a woman, definitely a woman,
Because she’s clear, she knows.

There was once a night,
When she came alive and walked the earth.
She spread her hair and let the wind kiss them.

Her luminous body shimmered in the pale moonlight,
She spoke a deep resonant music I‘d never heard before.
When she talked, people listened for the sound of it.

With a languor she moved,
And when she felt like it, she’d toss her head and laugh
Blatantly…

She would mean more than what she’d say;
You needed to look into those dense eyes
The abandon in them still scares me.

She surfaced, she left.
But in those lonely moments, she reminds me of her dormancy.
The damage has been done, the night has paled;
The woman lives…

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