Poetry Story 6

Books glorify beauty,
Men called it weakness,
Societies called it desirable,
She will use it as a weapon.
Weapons didn’t need to be
– grand swords
– sneaky poisons
She could, would, will be swift, sharp, coy.
Out from forest, in to city,
One wild to another wild.
Clothing ruined, hair messed, every part barbarian.
Noses wrinkled, lips muttered, eyes averted.
Stone surrounded colder stones.
No option to beg,
Hands grew light as feathers
Stealth a gift developed to adapt.
Clothes stolen, wash basins borrowed.
She looked the part,
Averted eyes began to glance…
Only women had wrinkled noses.
One cold night, inside a tavern, in secret.
An opportunity awaited.