Women are usually to blame…
For having nothing to do
With men’s excuses
Women take on the red-blooded burden
Like an extra layer of clothing
Like a shawl of blue silk
Wrapped loosely about soft curves
Women understand the complexities of the man’s woes
Those he has no idea he possesses
Those he has no idea how to manage
The ones the feminine can sweep into her chest with a swift flutter of wrists
And bury under her folds of pliable skin
With flower of calendula she can heal those burns the man makes
The fires set across his life while in tumultuous relations
She can iron out the doubled over swatches, the gathers of his troubles
That seemingly accumulate from non-of-his-doing
That consistently manifest
From somebody else’s hand
The woman’s eye is unparalleled in its vigilant efforts
With intentions to protect
Those men she loves most excellently
She can’t ever fail them
Nor could she consider leaving
For her devotion and allegiance compose the characteristics of what man has fallen for
Of what man devotes his mind and physical self to
Of what man evolves to understand
Is rare
And valuable