There’s a constant presence, an outside
body nested firmly where I’m supposed to exist… here, in the calmness of the
depth where I’m created. Her world, subtle and unique, tender and soft, romantic
in its core, brutally real in the connection with mine. She’s a chunk of my
worth, physically attached to my body carried in my making, with every step I take,
in every word I make. Even in the blue of my eyes, she’s there… and this lasts for
years by now, when most inhales carry her name.
And I’m that fool who fails to think of,
but I don’t need to… in parts, I’m her.
That Sheitan:*
Ahhh, all those women inside me!
