The bug-like and the bee-like The flavour and the fragrance of a man Proceeds from the women Who are around him, Be it in his arms or his heart. They can be bee-like or bug-like. The bug-like woman knows not The meaning of passion and commitment, Her words have flat effects. She plagues you with false disguises, Placing false laurels on your head, Alien and foreign to your inner self, Allowing animal instinct to overpower you And drowning you in a state called fatalism By sucking the blood out of you, Brutally butchering you, Making you emaciated and dehydrated. The bee-like woman Will humble you by her wealth of knowledge Making you tap your feet To the rhythm of her heart. With searching eyes and parted lips, She exhibits her pampered passions for you, Revitalising your libido And helping you achieve the most important Kind of freedom that you really are, Not the one that puts a mask on you. She sees in you sort of a surrogate father, Attiring your heart in colours of the rainbow With a sublime feeling. Epitome of grace, Unimpeachable and impeccable, Soft and sassy,alive with vigour, She brings solace to you In trying times Erupting the myriad facets of your heart With the honey flowing from her lips. Pramila Khadun.
Posted on: Mon, 28 Apr 2014 09:46:52 +0000
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