...women come to book stores distraught
To read through the tears in their eyes
Naughty poems that were written once
Of love not to them
Of life not their own
Of journeys untraveled around the world
Women bring their empathy in sacrifice
To be stained, laundered and squeezed
By the words of some practical dreamers...
Women, women that read.... a lot!
...But what do they truly know
Love of poetry - a clean way... to enjoy!
Love of life is that dirt... Tired mind, bloody delusion defeating reality against all odds...
And the hands - to the elbows - in ink...