How universes apart
Is the slap of her beautiful jawline,
To the slap of her buttocks
When she is sprawled all over,
On your comfy lap.
How easy for a woman
To make a whore of herself, the lipstick boulevards
That she enters and the soon after, when she will
Hold you like a guardian angel, the twists
And the turns of being her,
The perennial woman, who can never-ever be,
Your crash test dummy or the chinaware,
To your slippery palms.
And a broken hymen,
She will only regret in silence,
And never in admission,
What is light years apart,
From a broken lip.