And here I am again, toes frozen on the cracked earth beneath my feet scarred by wine red glutton. Yes, I’m here again. I had painted my lips bright scarlet, bitten cyanide after cyanide of the woman you like your woman to be. Just the way a woman must be.Have got to be the woman that I have to be. Skin borne off silk and velvet -bare for kisses and glances and admiration that leaves nothing for the woman that I can be. Fingers soft and helpless to yours. Hair a perfect wave, an iridescent curve to your achievement. Just the way that I should be. Just the way a woman must be.

I am only woman. That is all I have to be. No more angry steps up staircases leading to where black suits play and ride in silence between their scotch and their brandy and their beer. Between a man and the boy, that I can love and have. I am only just a woman. That is all I must be and have to be. Beautiful and gentle. No malice. No games. Just elusive conundrums of heart and the soul a man can pursue to gain. I am just woman aren’t I?

But that is not all that I can be.


Published by

cie miraflor

A Filipino at heart and a Thomasian in spirit. A vocalist. A bookworm. A chocoholic. A liar. A dreamer. A coffee addict. A writer of poetry and short stories. A pending Information Technologist. A frustrated programmer. Blinded with love for Batman.

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