I Am Woman

Neurotic

A love-starved woman
is likely neurotic.

A poem prepared
in champagne and lace,
so delicately romantic.
Passion committed
to words
was something she needed.

Her soul stood apart,
so very tender and beautiful.
She loved extraordinarily as if living
was but a shadow to
this feeling.

There was something luminous about her,
she was mysterious,
peaceful,
and seemed happiest
at night in a crowd.

She was a romantic soul
and passion burned
in her bed.
That was life
madly
in love.

I heard you say I have
too much woman in me.
Men had a
holy fear of me.

She is
fire and water.
For the first time,
she is vivid,
free, and full of life,
and shall go on living
so complete.

She tells herself,
it is enough.
It's all right.
At home, she is herself,
she is herself.

She loved
as if thousands of roots
had grown
quietly,
in the tangle of bonds
so intimate and
curiously invading.

I really like women.
To a woman...
love and desire
are mutually exclusive
and happen
at the same time.