He Asked Me: What Is It Like To Be a Woman

and i pretended to be the air, warm wind gently moving behind his ears, ruffling his hair, touching his eyelids, smoothly entering his chest, making him believe that he was breathing, and i again pretended to be a flower, a beautiful flower, calmly waiting, alluring him with my gaze as you would lure a bee, or a bird when it flies and hums, and sings, flaps its wings and looks for its place in the palm, then he asked me again: - and yet, what is it like to be a woman? and i pretended it was raining and raining