There is a quiet desperation in my pulse,
the gentle pushing on wards and up wards
contained only by my skin and the turn of the moon..
in the depths of being female
in the richness of the redness the pours from our hearts and between our thighs
for the years of happily ever after lies
for the giving up and letting in
for the the times when we fought and they came anyway...
for the "hey baby's" and and "fuck you bitch"'s
for the scilences that shouted no
for the yes's granted on the condition of forever
for the potential of youth and wisdom of ages....
There is a quiet desperation in my pulse and I am listening.
Hiç yorum yok:
Yorum Gönder