BLACK WIDOW ART THEE

I have been referred to 

With numerous names,

I have been spoken of,

For playing mind games.

I have been called

An opportunistic,

Who uses her womanly wiles,

To get her way,

And get away,

With people by using smiles.

If I wear bright colours,

A bungle, a bindi,

And a pair of earring,

I’m said to have 

Taken pains

To look good and dress up.

If I laugh aloud,

I have no shame,

If I don’t I’m a snob,

If I’m independent,

They think it’s due to my job.

I have had enough and now it’s time,

For me to raise my voice,

I am, a widow, I agree,

But I was never by choice.

I’m not a widow of opportunity,

Nor a tissue to be used and throw,

Neither am I a damsel in despair,

Nor a broken bow.

I do not need any shoulder

To cry and lean on,

Do not think I’m emotionally weak,

I don’t need another ‘someone’

I really pity 

The people who see

The smile on my face for their notion,

They can never see 

The pain within me,

For them my heart isn’t open.

Not that my life 

Is centered around

What people think and say. 

I live my life,

On my own terms,

I follow my own pathway.

I am still married 

To the man I love,

Even if I’m called a widow,

My heart knows

That he knows it too,

Because my soul tells me so. 

apoohm.wordpress.com

#PillsandPoems

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