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.
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