I've never idolized a fierce woman.
there was something so much more powerful,
in the way a woman could subdue a man, with a kind voice,
and gentle hand.
He had the soul of a moribund man
Clinging to the same bottle
He wished to drown himself in
I'll stay flittering in fanfare
While my carefree soul is still a sin
To people I will meet not once or never again
Oh! to tool my life through thin veil curtains
The curtains of the bourgeoisie
The Moon must have kissed her
and the moon must have missed her
—more than I
fore her love only came to me, in waves,
and I'd beg
my love come back to me
but she was meant for the sea
could not follow.
So in her divine love,
the love of life and light to follow
she carved out paths for me
and brackish water set us free
I wait to be awoken with loves gentle kiss.
Though at night I draw my curtains closed,
forbidding even the stars to gleam.
I do not desire beauty unless to catch but a glimpse of it in the reflection of your eyes.
Vanity is the poor womans death
𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾
𝓘𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓭
𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓼 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼
𝓗𝓸𝔀 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼
— The End —