Woman

a rocking hammock that
wants to be a safety net.

that is a woman.

she wants two hands
in her hair
pulling her close to
the taste of heaven
and the same two hands
that assists her to twirl
in the rain
and the same two hands
that gives her a bouquet
of flowers and any diamond
accesory on every date that
involves birth and the start
of the sparks
and the same two hands
that craftes its arms to fit
her waist after midnight
to ease the pain

but she also wants
to tame the two hands
from lingering around other
women's  fingers and
conquering their hearts.

she doesn't want to be a substitute.
she wants to be the main player
so enough is never enough.

but the moment she thinks
she did,
 she feels the responsibility
to obey,
the duty to trust
and the agreement to be loyal.

and so she closes her eyes
and shut her heart.

let the same hands squirt
blood out of her lips
and the same hands
pushes her to the corner of the wall
and her head is  nearly pierced
by the edge of the table
she knows  that at the end of night
the same hands will pull her close
to the soothing beating
like a drumroll welcoming her to
the heaven that she first found
in the eyes that promised her
a space to reside.

so she tends to forgive
again and again
and when repetition occurs
on a word
sorry sounds like a soft
snore she waits every night
for the instrument to come home.

that is a woman.

-such fragile creatures that
are playfully screenplayed
by love.