What A Womanly Thing To Do

what a womanly thing to do, to conceal the sweetness of your bitter words, to quiver alone, to silence a love, for fear it becoming a backbone.

this unmasked love, my dear, is inflamed longing, all the poetry in the world will fail to contain.

what a womanly thing to do. to refuse to dance to the music of his heart, claiming it too loud.

to laugh away his sorrows, the sadness burdening his tired shoulders, with expectations of a father awaiting the coming of his eldest son.

to show him that heaven does exist on earth, a painting of two lovers, in a space of one, then build a barrier, preventing the future from holding the brush.

what a womanly thing to do.

trust is gazing faithfully into a heart that appears as a reason in the dark, against all your poor judgements, even lack of that.

what a womanly thing to do. to push away the unfamiliar, in order, to stamp, to prove a theory, your inexperienced mind decided long ago.

love does survive in life.

it does when you move together, if even separately, to a shared rhythm, when you strip yourself honest, when you question the rigid grip on the past, cleaning the wounds of all the hurt inside.

it does when you grow into your own woman, not a fragment of all the women who spilled down their painful lessons.

two stories never once shared the same character.

it does when fighting is broken down into remedies, to reveal the cracks, for understating to surround them from every side.

it does when steps are paved, plans are marked, to a road that sees two, not afraid to wait, to work together, against the odds of life.

lovers, take your time. in contemplation of thoughts. but do not take your precious gift for granted. in solitary, look at the result behind the force, then make your peace.

lovers, distance is the testing recognition of all that is true in love, absence is the beginning of every loss. remember, indeed love drives from a positive source of faith in the small details.