Yet, I Still Thrive

Does my face retrace the anger, of a once distant love affair? Do my curves exhaust a notion, that at one time we kindly cared? Yet, I still thrive. Does my smile rile your insides, and shadow a subtle act? Do my hips which sway in elegance, bestow this monstrous attack? Yet, I still thrive. Does my laughter force the cringe, grimaced upon your face? Do my fingers not gently guide you, to a once happy, exotic place? Yet, I still thrive. Does my spirit not depict beauty, of a once stunning shore? Do my lengthy legs not confine you, in perfect synchronization anymore? Yet, I still thrive. Does my sensuality no longer appease, the thirst once quenched within? Do my eyes announce the sadness, of forever living in sin? Yet, I still thrive. Does my lonely heart sob uncontrollably, noting a broken bond of hate? Do my tears not convey the purpose, of two lost souls with opposite fates? Yet, I still thrive.