womanhood

a work in progress

Category: The Sexes (Page 1 of 15)

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My Man.

Hey you. 

My lover, my man. 

The one who can’t shed a tear. 

When he needs it the most. 

Hey you. 

Sweet man. 

Is it all ok in there? 

Because I reached out at night. 

And your body wasn’t near. 

Because I tried to make it light, and your laughter wasn’t heard. 

Hey you. 

It’s ok. 

It’ll all be ok. 

It wasn’t you. 

It wasn’t me. 

It wasn’t all of this. 

It just had to be. 

X

K

Power

Yesterday you spoke.

And spoke. 

And spoke. 

I wanted you to get it all out. 

Out of your system. 

The words, the pain, the hurt. 

Everything. 

Out. 

So that your insides were anew. 

But I couldn’t help but notice. 

Those strings of words. 

All too familiar. 

Because there was a time. 

When they came from my lips. 

He said I shouldn’t. 

They thought it was best I don’t. 

It’s not in my control. 

He bought the tickets so I had to go. 

I told him we shouldn’t, but he said we should. 

All those words. 

Tell me. 

You gave your power to him. 

Nestled it in his lap. 

And then asked me. 

What can I do? 

 

X

K

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Ok

There is confusion.

Where are you my sweet.

Disconnected.

Is where you are.

Far from me.

Unable to connect.

Unable to reach.

But I know you.

You know me from every under current running along the lines that transfer my breath, my intonations, my heartbeat from me to you.

You know my silence.

You know the anger in my message when I simply say, “ok”.

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In our darkest hours

We have nothing to give.
Burnt.
Crisp.
Hurting and hurt.

We just need each other to take from.
But what is there to take, when you are so empty.
So so empty.

And so we try.
To fill the cup again.

Slowly.
Surely.
Hopefully.

Through the darkness of the night.

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Risk Vs. Outcome

There is no formula for attraction.
For love.
For this mish mash we call life.

There is nothing that explains to me.
Why I am.
Attracted to you.

You’re not my type.
You’re not in my books.
Not in the art.

You’re all things removed from me.
To list it here would reveal you.
So I won’t.

Somebody please explain this mess in my mind.
Preferably not you, because then we might be more than nothing.

And as much as I want that.
I don’t.
I do.
I don’t.
I do.
I don’t know.
I don’t.
I do.
I just don’t.
Know.
Won’t.
Risk.
It all.

X
K

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Men Vs. Men

I’m coming to the realisation.
That I don’t have room for men, who feel uncomfortable, threatened or uneasy about whom I am.

I want to be around men who champion women.
Men who admire women who are ahead of them in the game.
Men whose eyes light up when they see a successful woman.

Those are the kind of men I’m okay to have in my life.

The rest are just bad vibes.

X
K

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Untitled

She told me she didn’t understand why she felt like that.
In love with one and wanting another.
His skin.
His fingers.
The way they swept upon her collarbone.
And his laugh.

She was so so so happy.
So content.

But this guy.
Had her.
Without having her at all.

X
K

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Waiting

I want you to pin me down.
Hold me down.
Laugh at every joke of mine the way you do.
I want you to come on over and surprise me.
Make the move.
The first move.

I want you to delight me.
Find the courage it takes.
To tumble and confused the hell out of things.

I want you to find me.

Right here.

K

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Enamoured

You said it to me yesterday.
With subtlety.
But often the things you ask with subtlety are the ones that strike the realest.

Does your shine bother him?

Not the money.
Not the levels.

Just the magnificence of who you are.

And you know what.
I don’t know.
I don’t know for sure.

But I do know.
That another man was enamoured.

X
K

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He Won

Last night you were in my room.
Now my bedsheets smell like you.
Your skin.
Next to mine.
Flushed.
You face, staring into mine.

As we lie.
Side by side.
Curious.

Known and unknown.

Tender.
Delights.

X
K

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