I can see
how men fall irrevocably in love
with women
with so much soul in their bones
that it must ripple, and fill out living flesh
women who possess thoughts
that could bring down the sky
women with platinum eyes and satin skin;
willowing waifs and dewy dreams.

But how they fall even a stones throw
for women with
sallowed cheeks and deserted eyes
who paint themselves out of freckles and blush
women with
minds that contemplate only as much as the mirror reflects
and mouths that open to unwittingly break a misleading silence
women with
not an ounce of longing or lust
or love
in their veins, just a crimson thud
without a beat.