In the absence of breath,
There is no life.
Movements cease,
Songs make slight sense,
Agony overrules,
As smiles disappear.
Laughter is mockery,
Joy is very dim,
Happiness is blurry.
And only pain is clear.
In the absence of breath,there is no life.
But what happens in the absence of life?

I have a lot of them pretty clothes;
Short,long or medium skirts.
Shabby,decent or just mere blouses.
Short,long or medium dresses.
But none can compare to my favorite little black dress.

Its neither too short,nor too long.
And I cannot even classify it to be medium.
Its entire length is knitted in black
As it has stitched in white,
A belt that covers the waist.
Its not a very big belt though,
Too little actually.
But I love my favorite little black dress.

It is not because I can wear it to any occasion that I love it;
I can wear it to dinner,
And yet be comfortable enough to select even my favorite musozya to be my meal.
I can dance for the whole night when in it.
I can meet even the scariest of inlaws in it,
And shake the hands of the most respectable people while having its belt clenching my waist.
My favorite little black dress.
I just love it

And it is not because I got my first kiss in it.
Nor is it because I had just taken it off,
When my lover devoured my flesh and took my innocence with him that night.
Leaving my decency to cling only to my skin,
As if it is on my favorite little black dress.

I kicked a ball in it,
As the boys whaled 'goale! Goale! Goale'
Thinking that since I had a dress for a garment,
Then the goal,I would surely miss.
And yet I didn't.
In my favorite little black dress.

That night when I danced with him,
I wore it.
I could tell my father too,
Appreciated how lovely it made me look on this day,
As he led me to the dance floor,
And yet;
I wasn't even the bride.
My favorite little black dress.

I got the message you sent when you didn't speak,
When you closed your mouth,
And said nothing at all;
You said a lot.

I saw the depth of care in your eyes when you didn't look,
When you closed your eyes,
And disregarded my presence;
I saw a lot.

My heart speaks to you,
And my eyes always look up to you,
Yet;
It matters not to you.

You are the one who got away,
And I the one who cries in the dark
With a bleeding soul.

A soul once surrendered to you,
Yet rejected by you;
Its vessel.

Only very few words are said by a bleeding heart

Version 2
My moonlight eyes
Might have been part of heavenly things.
My fingers
Are angelic in form.
My legs
Slender,attractive and obviously the ones that attracted him more to me.
I am beautiful.

I am not too tall,
But my plumpness kind of fits my height
Perfectly.
Yet,
I am sure he was concerned more
By the backside than the wonderful bump
My chest makes against his.

Why me?
But why not?

I am the beauty of his eyes,
The satisfaction of all his lustful desires.
So isn't one less beautiful than me more fortunate?
For no big bellied man in his richness
Can dare approach a woman he is less satisfied with.

I see it all in his eyes.
My silky skin,
My adorable smile,
And the totally kissable  lips are all he ever thinks of.

But if I am too beautiful to attract a man my own father's father's age,
Then beauty is a curse.

Version 1
Would he have noticed her?
If her face was not as it was.
Would she have been so full of herself?
If her beauty was not so daring.
Beauty is a curse;
Yet she embraced it like a blessing.

"I want a woman who will make my children beautiful"
Was all he ever thought of.
She did give him that,
But they too were a curse.

All five of his daughters reminded him how shallow his life was to wish for beauties.
A constant reminder of how adulterous his wife was,
A crime she always got away with for being beautiful.

Had he been wise,
He would have wished for a beautiful woman as a life partner,
Not a pretty ***** that fulfilled his hopes with a hall in his chest.

Now everyone laughs at him.
Tempted and slaughtered by the ugly duckling he mistook for beauty.
For if beauty is her,
Then indeed
Beauty is a curse!

Version 1
Would he have noticed her?
If her face was not as it was.
Would she have been so full of herself?
If her beauty was not so daring.
Beauty is a curse;
Yet she embraced it like a blessing.

"I want a woman who will make my children beautiful"
Was all he ever thought of.
She did give him that,
But they too were a curse.

All five of his daughters reminded him how shallow his life was to wish for beauties.
A constant reminder of how adulterous his wife was,
A crime she always got away with for being beautiful.

Had he been wise,
He would have wished for a beautiful woman as a life partner,
Not a pretty ***** that fulfilled his hopes with a hall in his chest.

Now everyone laughs at him.
Tempted and slaughtered by the ugly duckling he mistook for beauty.
For if beauty is her,
Then indeed
Beauty is a curse!