Her heart open, her legs open, her ears, her eyes, her arms opened, made known to you more than you even know yourself, all this in exchange for love, all this in exchange for the little you can give to compensate for more than she has to give.
See she knows nothing but everything about you, your needs, your deeds and best believe your unknown qualities. She loses herself trying to gain what was promised at the inception of your bond, just the least of what you can give, not from your wallet but from your heart.
She couldn't change the world, she couldn't make it like you wish, time after time she's thought about it, the words you utter in conversations you both have, the dreams you dream of the world you must have. She couldn't change it, because she didn't own the world, but she thought how she had a world of her own, and so she started there, she made it your own. She changed her world so it would suit you, she helped you into your clothes, the ones that best suites you. All this, in exchange for the least you could give, all this in exchange for things promised.
Like a sidekick she's there, not stealing your shine but helping to pick up the little things you've left behind. "Honey here's your keys, don't leave your documents, don't forget to eat."
Sometimes she cries, often times she wonders why, why can't she receive the love she deserves, why can't she receive the least of what you got, a kiss good night, a hand stretched forth, a listening ear, an absorber for her tears. She thinks about things she tries to forget, things she's only done because she thought it brought you happiness.
It's almost 8, you're running kinda late, she dries her tears, hides her fears and finds her cape. She resumes her duties, her unpaid duties, her unappreciated, never duplicated, in the streets, beneath the sheets, her domesticated, duties. In a bid to one day receive, a woman's reparation.
By P. Peddie
June 8, 2014.
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