She wears woman like a weapon
Her sex is her shield
Perfume and parted lips
Are the power that she wields

Wrought from souless, spinning power
Her iron will does not yield
But instead absorbs their evil
Herself to conceal

Even her skillful, feline tongue
Cannot tempt them to be healed
Bleeding wounds of the soul
They are the blight of man revealed

*Author’s Note–

This poem has been stuck in my head for over a month. It’s nice to finally get it out on (digital) paper. I don’t know who this woman is, but I felt I should mention she’s not me. Unless you’re talking in the universal sense, where I am every woman. But please. It’s only a Tuesday. Let’s keep existential thought to a minimum.

Kaitlin “Every Woman” Wehlmann

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