in this battle of the sexes
the language is cursive versus printing
eloquently spoken needs
applauded with neanderthal provisions
it’s not a women against men fight
but rather
one bruised person
dealing with the wounds of another
a battle where the piercing of softness
elicites a stiffness in gait
shuttering their ability
to walk, to breathe, to exist
it sounds almost incomprehensible
two lives are at stake
that are relatively comfortable
yet fragile but sane and psychotic
when past realities dominate
where fantasies indeed came true
yet the present doesn’t match
the picture of who they are now
it’s almost like wishing upon a star…
I Write Her 
Love it ♥♥
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Glad you enjoyed it, Maham! 🙂
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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I love the language and flow in this poem, Susi.❤
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Thank you, Carolyn! ❤
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Well said!
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Thanks, Val! 🙂
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born alone alive
then dying
no need to ask why
either
not something you can control
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Yup.
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So very true for many people.
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Very. Thanks for stopping by, Sadje!
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You’re welcome
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