her swollen blisters
walking miles where no man goes.
She talks in whispers
trudging with bunions on her toes.

You don't touch her as she quivers
from the night's she's slept alone.
She is moon, sun and rivers.
You're a pebble, a skipping stone!

You cannot smell a rose's sweetness.
You're too busy pulling thorns.
You don't have completeness.
You're a ram, encrusted with a head of horns.

You cannot taste a drop of honey.
Bitterness sits on your tongue.
You cannot feed off all your money.
The only thing to which you clung.