Under all those sensuous curves ,

and eyes so demure,

lay a woman with a fiery heart,

and strong demeanor.

No ,it is not hearts she enamors .

no matter her enormous heart;

there seems to be  stripping eyes and wanton hands;

but none with eyes that look for hidden character.

She yearns for those,

she curses her curves,

isn't it always like that?

She tries to tell them,

no she tries to scream at the world;

My brains and curves are mine.

Not a piece of public art made for you to criticize and touch.

My body ,my soul are mine alone,

it is not for you to take as you wish,

as though I'm and ice cream,

to take a scoop and taste.

I'm no man ,yes.

I never will be,nor do I want to be.

No I'm better.

I'm a woman.