| Anna Karenina ~ 1877 It is the last of me, these days... after heartbreak, the body speaks but does not sway. How can women love freely in a world where they are turned against the other? To compete and commit ourselves to Man, whose wandering eyes will devote complete sacrifice from his gem. She, who bled for him to enter her carried him in her center, and bled again for him to exit her A son, greeted into a world where his actions, however contrary will go unquestioned. Where infidelity is overlooked and quickly forgiven... While the many women who are seduced and spurned continue to punish and be punished for misunderstanding desire as love. The man that she gambled her life for, how soon his love died, as if overnight... growing restless in consoling her. See how tears on her face for him became too much. Emotions weigh heavy on men who are the fairer sex. Delicate, and vulnerable... needing to be carried on the backs of strong women. Women whose synonym for devotion denotes desperation. And she gives of herself until their is nothing more to give. Until she is cast out of society, while he continues to thrive in the center of it. Until he moves on to flesh more supple, free from the tears and trauma of his past. A new woman, a new slate. A canvas untainted by the memories of past heartbreak. Yes, after heartbreak the love we risked for will and shall change. Anna, I see myself in you. I see all women at their core in you. Love here is selfish and unkind. And I, of women most wretched, that despite my innocence, I remain dejected. Retribution for a crime I have not committed. To live in isolation, to beg again for the company of invisible hands and lips to kiss and caress me. That all I have ever wanted in intimacy, was that which our eyes cannot see. To find you once more within the folds of omnipresent mercy. |
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