You do not understand what it means to be Woman.

To be me.

A childless mother,

yet try not to smother

you.

Laundry, cleaning, ironing

taking out trash.

In the kitchen, I slay.

Maintaining a peaceful home,

this isn’t child’s play.

To be sexy, seductive, 

it takes work:

hormones balancing, 

exercising, eating healthy, 

mind exploring, 

the stealthy 

work.

Stimulating conversations

turn me on: our minds awake.

The time it takes 

exploring new thoughts.

Discovering cinema, arts, and books.

I like to leave you a little shook.

Running your business,

the employee, the professional me,

but it’s a man’s world, so my work practice is 

take no prisoners,

the hardened me.

On any day, I test the waters,

another version of me.

The moon pulls, current shifts, 

temperature rises then drops 

20, 30, 40 degrees.

You do not understand what it means to be me.

I cool like shade,

then burn with flame,

an instinctive reflex,

not a game.

I like to run wild, 

you know this for eighteen years.

At times I run to you, face dripping with tears,

the struggle, the dance 

to be yours, yet free.

The balance to remind us both 

you hold the key.

You do not understand what it means to be Woman.

Within mere hours, 

I am divided into three, 

and then another three:

lover, partner, mother,

and more.

A Woman is an ocean.

You have barely touched the shore.