By Prapti Walia
He knows just when not to listen to her. He knows she ain’t no man’s woman. She sure can hold her own. She attacks like a wounded tigress, and he knows better than to get in her way. He stands on the corner of the payment, one foot up against a wall. Cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips. Just watching, secure in the knowledge that only he is privy to the “behind the scenes” of her beautifully chaotic mind. He knows she’s a soldier. She fights her own battles.
Nay, she’s a General, she commands admiration and awe. His manhood is not threatened by her majesty. On the contrary it turns him on. He knows eventually it’s him she’ll seek out. He recognizes her contradictions when she lays her tired head on his chest. The beat of his heart calms her raging storms. He’s soothing, like a balm, he lures out the child in her. The one that wants to be held, cared for and belong. He knows just when she doesn’t want to be listened to…she wants to be heard.
By Prapti Walia
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