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Which Woman

Image by Anka Zhuravleva

Image by Anka Zhuravleva

There is something in the way that she moves. There is always something in the way she half smiles before every single sentence. Or when you see her swallow before speaking, like you make her nervous. Or the sparkle in her eye, and the way they squint before she uses her words. Sometimes when you feel like life has been hard, or you wallow in the guilt of your sins, you simply find comfort in the strands of her hair. The fragrance of the so many lives sheltered under her age old ways providing a distinguished sense of support and protection. They say shes been around the block, but her effect on you isn’t in any way diminished. With every single life she decides to be with, her beauty intensified by that additional length. No amount of visitors coming in and going out leaving any kind of taint on her unprecedented purity. She feels like shes built for you. Her arms shaped to fit your form, to embrace you close to her heart and join in her breath. Every inhalation and exhalation your vigor, your strength, your vice but also your elixir. You forget her sometimes when you get caught up in yourself. But then on a down trodden day, a battled you will remember the shape of her almond eyes and her lips. The way she will always anticipate your return and remembrance. Unselfish in her ways of accepting you in any of your brief and inconsistent visits and remembrance. The porcelain skin across the nape of her neck, your portal to disappear into a space so much greater than yourself. There is something in her unselfish ways. She loves you always just as much as you selfishly love her in your desperation. 

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