There are women…
And then there are women, women…
They should not be tried to be understood,
it would be a lost battle from the start.
You must accept them, just so.
You must take them and kiss them, not give them time—
time to think.
You must conquer them in an embrace,
to still their trembling and the fear that can strike you down once,
only once, without a sound, with a muted voice.
For they are unsettled by their own fragilities, and,
after whispering them before us, they suffer—
in a slow, wordless agony—thinking that, by revealing their face,
by showing their femininity,
by exposing their need for a fleeting moment without shame,
they will see your shoulders turned away
and your steps in departure.
So, draw them close and love them. Love them clothed,
for naked they are all beautiful.
Love them unguarded, without makeup, as they are,
for you never know when a woman’s eyes
will find their shield behind the veil of a powder.
Love them when they are drowsy, wounded, and weary of sleep.
Love them knowing they have no need—
for they know how to be enough for themselves.
And precisely for this reason,
they know how to love you in a way no other ever has before.
