Free woman

Because it’s an interesting perspective


Freedom is a word that left a sort of swayish high in her head the same way she thought she would feel when his lips parted with hers, it’s a word she longed to touch, to breathe, to see, have and live..see there are all these chains around her,tags of imperfections impressed upon her by her accusers.

Now, when her mind is clear as day, is when she sees the beauty that is every woman. She who is shaped like the Conga drums, whose hips sway naturally as she moves, or her whose shape is like the flute, in the hands of he who is an expert,who holds his instrument right and presses each button with precision, resonates with a melody matching the Conga beat….or what about her whose ample bossom is like twin saxophones,which when played right produces music that breathes passion to the lovers ears…each woman,sculptured in her…

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