February 9, 2014 § 9 Comments
I’m a woman.
A woman full of mirth, dust and clots. A woman defined by words and the general lack of them. A man eater. I swallow them and am always hungry for more. With venom on my tongue, I’m always hunting for the next one.
A bottomless hole of misery, I contain nothing but shallow depths. You read that right, yes.
I make bold proclamations of love, promises, give out Judas kisses. I never mean to stay. Nomads, usually don’t. They’re headed somewhere far away. Rarely do they seek someone who prefers to stay with them. Rarely.
But like the arrogant nutcase, when someone does want to stay; I pull away. Not because I don’t want them to. But because I’m not ready. For the affection, love and the stability. I’m not a planner. I live life the way it comes and sometimes rape it while embracing it hard. I do.
So you, yes you, stay away. I can inflict harm upon you in ways more than one. No, I’m not exaggerating. You know it.
And you don’t know me at all if you believe all this.