They call me womaniser
a man who knows the hearts of women,
yet has not been claimed by love.
I do not wear it as a shame,
but as a gentle crown.
For mine is not the way of conquest,
but of respect, of kindness.
I move not with careless touch,
but with words
verses that linger upon the heart
before any hand may seek the soul.
Yes, I am a womaniser,
but one who listens, one who cares,
one who honours every glance and every sigh.
Still, I wander, waiting
for the one whose presence
will silence my riddles,
whose love will name me
not womaniser,
but beloved.
Sep 3, 2025
Sep 3, 2025 at 7:33 PM UTC
They call me womaniser
a man who knows the hearts of women,
yet has not been claimed by love.
I do not wear it as a shame,
but as a gentle crown.
For mine is not the way of conquest,
but of respect, of kindness.
I move not with careless touch,
but with words
verses that linger upon the heart
before any hand may seek the soul.
Yes, I am a womaniser,
but one who listens, one who cares,
one who honours every glance and every sigh.
Still, I wander, waiting
for the one whose presence
will silence my riddles,
whose love will name me
not womaniser,
but beloved.
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