Woman

Words by: Lily Anna
Art by: Naiyanat Sornratanachai

Silhouette in the evening,

A vision of a madonna cloaked in indigo and chrome

To be found in the smoke screen but never for long.

She undresses from her guise, in the confides of her abode

And performs a ritual to unwind from her affair with the night.

To her, it was not a service to romance,

But self righteous dance.

Taking lustful glances at sex and  temporary affection,

Her body was a playground for childlike naivety and exploration.

Gratification was a stranger’s appreciation

And she lavished in the luxury of it all.

She was a fearsome force

Forgetting her girlhood was a sentence frequently spoken from the lips of feigned voices.

As they all watched from the altar of one,

A holy body that thrived in speculation and judgement,

Lost in tracking the movements of flowering femmes like a permanent occupation.

They told her to sit down,

Cover up,

Rid her lips of crimson colour.

She’s all too busy growing up

Feasting on the flight of her own rhythm,

No intervention would be her saviour. 

A velvet tongue

Glides the surface,

A pleasurable act

Guided with purpose.

She was not afraid of a mid-afternoon rendezvous

Basking in the sun with all the lights on 

Staring directly at you. 

For she does not love in muted tones

But in a sensual symphony of rushed heart beats and promises. 

She won’t hold on for long,

The labour of her love is in flux.

Don’t forget about the woman

Decorated in crismon and chrome,

Align yourself with the woman

Who is her own muse, her home

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