Retreating behind the bars…

Retreating behind the bars where I wish to hide my agonizing scars

Scars of pride bruised by repeated victimization…. scaring my existence forever

Pushing me into infinite darkness where I had sequestered myself in recriminating silence

A haunting silence which questioned my birth as a girl

A girl who lost her innocence when she didn’t even have breasts to flaunt

Victimized at every phase … I searched for answers as to why I suffered so much

When I assumed I was done…hurt was inflicted in new forms

Switching seamlessly from copious tears to volcanic outpour, sometimes I tried to ignore

Ignore the steady crescendo of insensitivity with defining machismo

The pathos couldn’t stop the infesting worms parading their slight of mind

Slicing away my belief and vulnerability…. experiencing men have been nightmares

Metamorphosizing me into a defiant woman over the years

With a steely determination to keep them at a safe distance

Yet the ‘nightmares’ continues in unfathomable and unwarranted forms

Still I am surviving coalescing behind the bars…

Dichotomous denial.

The vicissitudes of life is unfolding in strange ways.
Me being designated as a femme fatale
Exuding unique gorgeous intellect.

Perennially conducting intrigues in the form of young and old

Fancifully ready to flirt.

With mummifying flummery which I least deserve.

Affording social and romantic amusements are for the venturesome
Fails to capture me in its fold.

For I prefer sinking into insignificance
Than clutter my life with men

Except for poetic unwinding
Which detoxifies my suppressed urges.

When women are going great lengths, charming pants off!
I consciously and verbally elbow out men with my intimidating presence

Sequestering myself
Looking for answers as to where am I leading.
Loosing or winning.

Occasionally the woman in me desires to breakdown sexual boundaries
To be indulgent in ephemeral pleasures.
But the inwardly wandering thoughts tugs me back to reality
Chaining me.

Maybe the instinctive mistrust for men who use and dump.
Or the thought of coming home to clutter at the cost of marital discord.
That's why I keep a safe distance from all of them.
Except for the occasional flirting which I can at the most afford

This dichotomy of my persona bewilders me
As to who am I.
What am I seeking

A woman who seeks for adventure
Or a woman in denial.

Consummating fantasies ...

You may designate me as a beauty of avant garde exuding contagious radiance

But I am just a fallible woman who has fallen prey to your deceptive decency

Deceiving me and yourself

That I am a woman of indigestible par excellence, unworthy of your attention.

Evoking heady feelings which magnetizes me in spite of the chasm

Haunting me with your suave persona

Transgressing my thoughts towards irrational lust

The strong undercurrent of irrepressible attraction looks for horizon

Where the carnal colloquy consummates into passionate brilliance.

Praising each other with inquisitive hands...luxuriating in waves of joy and rapture

Then me taking over

Shedding last semblance of grace, pinning you to bed

Whispering sweet nothings in your ears and marking you with stinging kisses

Gliding your sweat sheathed body downwards; I want to eclipse you in my darkness

Drowning your euphoric turgidity....guiding us to orgasmic bursts

For night long sessions where bodies succumbs to artistic calisthenics

Exercising your will power to bluff me off will only prove fatal

For extinguishing the breathing fire will leave both of us sufficiently bereaved

So come lets consummate our fantasies my dear, else I will haunt you till your waning years