FranKophone

On mornings like this, When gentle streaks of light Play hide and seek with darkness, I crave to hold you real tight. And never let you go. In a spur, I abandon my hesitation, Cross the space between us. You often take cue  and recoil, Just like my true lovesick man. Slowly our tale begins and then I hear you whisper a name With passion and trepidation. I pause , I listen. It isn’t mine, someone else’s. Fantasy shatters, heartache entails. On waking up, you forget all. I act like I know nothing at all.  Pic Courtesy : Google

Yes, I am a woman. The one who was loathed at birth. The one unloved in childhood. The one who had to abide by rules. The one who was not supposed to question norms. The one who was taught to be blind, timid and shy. The one who did all and had none. The one who was a doormat. The one who would never complain. The one who could be handled like a puppet. The one who could be stared at, touched inappropriately and used. The one who was an object. The one who died without mourning. ********************************* I am a woman. Free. On my own. Yes, I am a woman.