She walks as a liberal icon among people
who don’t realize their thoughts
are their barbed wires.
She’ll march the streets for the disenfranchised,
and maybe for those born with ugly faces,
but not for them who have the talent for picking the wrong men.
What about her?
She puts on a self-assuring act like she has a plan,
like she’s yet to pick a man on her own terms.
Her choice of weapon is the feeling of exhilaration that
comes from being hopelessly free
and it shows as glad throbbing in her eyes.
She is the only one for her child.
And she knows that all too well, because
he lifts her sense of self in the mirror.
When she walks into any room, she’s a vision,
dazzling like a field of daisies,
while still delicate as a single stem.
Wild thoughts of a cigarette put a quiver on her lips,
while making her dangerous from deep inside.
Just as suddenly, she wonders if she’s being judged?
You still want to know what’s difficult about
the ambivalence of living a single woman’s life?
Her predicaments can both confuse and console.
Do I show restraint
or live recklessly?
Should I’ve to pick between career and family?
Do I #EmbraceAmbition
or skydive when I already have all this freedom?
Should I live with purpose or shop intentionally?
Do I tighten my lips around foods
or seek refuge in them?
Should I take him back or seek new men?
Will I be judged if I show my solidarity to a man,
Yet watch female love scenes,
all night in bed?
Will I turn into my mother, if I clean up
these leftovers and clothes I chose not to wear last night?
They’re destroying my inner peace.
How’s one to welcome daybreak with whispers of
laughter and spend all this love
that’s turning into smoldering piles of passion?
The screen in my palm shows me the possibilities.
As a woman, I’ve the right to choose –
To swipe to the left or to the right.
“Hello, anyone out there, who claims to treat me fair,
and replace my freedom with a set of diamonds?
I have so much to give away, and so little time…”
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