Women
She smelt like over dampened sweetness; like roses that had been left unpicked under the naked sun. In some form, sharp-but not overbearing. She was humming a melody which was almost perfectly fitting. Some aren’t used to the female form, and for that some I see her as being intimidating. She was the type of woman that was just that; all woman. She was sweetness, all polite and a hint of complete insanity dashed by bitterness that had grown on her over the years. Not quite a barbie-hair-pulling type of damaged girl, and nor the homemaking plotting type, either. Somewhere in-between, in the lands of the tomboy and of the dame’. That’s where you’ll find her, her naked eyes gazing, her soft lips parted in melody. And herself a total mystery. Count me down as intrigued.