the enchantress

She came and sat
Just where I was sitting,
Quite silently though...
Only the smell of fresh lavender
Brought her in to my senses-
Busy as I was in my own world
Of dreams and hopes
Of pleasures divine;

She didn't ask me anything
But there was always
A kind of restlessness in her
That made me aware
Of her inner disquiet-
Disquiet caused , perhaps, by being sought after
By every discerning male gaze;

I felt
She needed help
-So I shrugged off my restive state of mind
And looked at her
And at once I knew
I was looking at someone desperately insecure,
Someone being chased all the time,
And Someone made tired by the chases...

Then she smiled, weakly,
Not keeping exactly with her lovely face
So luxuriously decorated;
And I looked on
To get full hold of the lustful lips so red!
Her physical reality so poignant!
But...
Her eyes...
Were they not moist?
Wasn't she a refugee?
Weren't her sorrows lying deep, too deep, under her beautiful facade?
I thought
I shouldn't be distracted by the too apparent...
By the glitz and the glamour...
So I chose the deep,
The morbid eyes...
The moribund soul...
I became the enchanter instead!


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