Memoirs of Woman
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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 satisfied.is…
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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