Memoirs of Woman

The woman of the night is no different than that of the day

She is alive and bold and thriving

Inhaling, exhaling; breathing

She exists.

Whatever you decide is fine

She craves the fullness thereof

She desires what’s in her heart

She gives more than what is required.

She deserves what is best.

Yet in the end she’s waiting and looking,

Hoping that one day desitiny will find her

Embrace her beyond control

And love her…until eternity’s end.

For to be…

Not enough sometimes

All efforts falling below the standard of need…

Ever coming short of what is really wanted

This shadow you see…

This visible protector that catches all the sorrow of her worries

Knows all the real feelings towards daily acquaintences

Picks up the pieces that have purposely been left behind

Slowly simmering into the mysterious silohuette that appears

Upon the departure of light.

Revealing the emotional build up that has cultivated

Releasing the stress that is indifferent on staying

Transferring energy since it refuses to be lost or destroyed

Receiving only that which is capable of queer stimulation

Sunrise to sunset repetition is her life…

Limited in it’s resources

It’s depletion date will call for celebration in her heart

Transforming her whole being from what was

Carrying her through what is

Motivating her for what will

She is she in the day

She is she in the night

She is she then

She is she now

She is she until

She is…

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