When a man ogles at
Another woman
With assessing eyes of an hawk,
Taking in the peculiarity of her features
With a diabolical aim to prey on her supposed immodesty or modesty?
Or something proud in her stance,
To smash it under his masculinity,
To treat her as a wasteyard for his hidden lust,
Which sees every woman
As a paramour
A treasure to be plundered, never cherished
And wants to nibble at
The softness of her flesh,
The warmth of her soul
Only to abandon them later, swiftly.
Telling that she doesn’t deserve preservation,
She’s no heritage.
In one quick flick of cruel eyes
Or whim of a heart,which was nothing
But a beating organ,
He disowns her sacrifices.
Does he know?
The woman beside him
Turns a little rigid
After, during his every new conquest
Does he know
The moulter of blind devotion
She wears for him
Degenerates amid a muffled riot
To pile in a wilting form under her feet
Silently she walks away while holding his hand
Or bearing a title of his last name
A part of her heart stands up
From the sacred prostrate of love
Shaking off an unwanted dust of true submission
_To the idol he was once_
Piece by piece her heart
Repeats the same unholy motion
Repents even more
When Her body yields to him
To carry on the settled decree of serving his needs
Her broken wounded pride
Wraps the newly infidel heart in her courageous wings
And flees her
Only to come back to the cadaver of a former Devotee,
With the curves, marked by a man,
And an unclaimed soul.


4 thoughts on “‘Obituary’

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