A Woman

The most beautiful eyes,
have the most beautiful tears.
A woman who leaves you awestruck with her eyes, 
have a past you could never imagine.
Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, 
but in the eyes of the one who beholds.

I mean, she is the one holding all the beauty, is she not?

Every time she laughs, 
lusts, 
lifts her own spirits up,
It is not for you, 
but for her.

We are the beautiful grapevine everybody wants to climb, 
then snips the life out of, 
bit by bit, 
shred by shred, 
until there’s nothing left but a silenced trophy they can hold.

The most beautiful eyes, 
have the most beautiful tears.
But those eyes can cry a river,
and that river,
can even make Satan shiver.

But that woman chooses not to.

That woman chooses to stand tall, 
chin up, 
back straight, 
with those tears running down her face to show that she CAN
cry a river that can run miles and miles of destruction
But she chooses not to.
Or she does.

But that's for her to decide.

Not you.

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