Pride and Vanity linger inside your walls.
You’ve fortified your castle with a high
wall of expectations.
Built an intimidating barbed wire fence
around you to stop entry into your heart and
to limit your soul’s connectivity to anyone
because no man is good enough for you.
No man fits your idealized aura of
perfection- your perceptive description
of a tall, sexy man with a body like Denzel
Washington and a smooth, deep voice
like Barry White.
A man with a handsome face depicted
on the magazine covers.
A man from the fairy tale; chivalrous
and brave as prince charming.
A man with large stacks of perceptive paper
and a tall gaping phallus.
A man wrapped up in your illusion of
Tell me now, your highness.
Who will love you when you are cold,
alone and old as the hills?
When the degree of ptosis in your
skin increases; decreasing its elasticity.
Your wrinkles start looking like a poorly drawn
map of the world and you’re reduced to a
perceptive battered shell of your youth.
When your laughter sounds like you’re
choking on the phlegm sleeping inside in
Who will love you then?
Who will hold you in the autumn of your life?
When the world grows cold and you need a
human blanket to keep you safe and warm.
When veins snake up your hands and your
movements become drowsy because of your
aging legs and wrinkled knees.
When your eyesight fails faster than your
pathetic University grades – forcing you
to wobble with your cane across the street.
When your smooth, melodious voice becomes
feeble and your eloquence starts struggling
amid jumbled words and sentences.
Who will hold you close through the
cold world, woman?
Who will make sweet love to you when
you’re a feisty antique version of yourself?
Caress your weary body when you’re
stinking of menopause and death.
Run his fingers over your skin stretched
over knobbing bones.
Kiss your worn out breasts that now tickle
Desire you even the bounce and smoothness
of your perky belle derriere starts drooping
and wrinkling and you lose the spontaneity
and sexiness you carelessly flaunt right now.
Who will dip inside that dry old pot with
a smiling face?
Proclaim you a Queen, proudly hold your
hand and make an open declaration.
“She is my Queen! She is my Woman!
She is my Wife! She is mine!”
Who will love you when your physical
It’s in age that he’ll appreciate your
beautiful soul, mind and heart.
It’s in that moment that you will understand
that you need a man who won’t just
turn your head but a love that never ages
even when everything else is old.
Don’t let your love grow when
So, who will love you when the flower withers…?