He Asked Me: What Is It Like To Be a Woman
and i pretended to be the air, warm wind gently moving behind his ears,
ruffling his hair, touching his eyelids,
smoothly entering his chest, making him believe that he was breathing, and i again
pretended to be a flower, a beautiful flower, calmly waiting,
alluring him with my gaze as you would lure a bee, or a bird when it flies and hums, and sings, flaps its wings and looks for its place in the palm,
then he asked me again: - and yet, what is it like to be a woman? and
i pretended it was raining
and raining
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