She was always an object to the men in her life
They would say she is beautiful, breath taking, their go-to line
They never truly appreciate what dwells inside her
The mind of a scholar, the heart of gold, the wit sharp as a dagger
She bares a treasure far greater than physical beauty
Yet she possesses Aphrodite’s essence in entirety
Still so much more lay beneath her ivory skin
So much more stowed behind her saint-like grin.
That what selfish-men worship as her exterior is but a vessel.
No matter how finely ornamented, or perfumed it may be
The truth lives deep inside, far from selfish men’s reach.
And if God may strike the next selfish-man blind, he may at last witness
Her words of wisdom caress his heart in a pure bliss.
For his vision no longer betrays, and she, loved as a whole
Not for the objects a selfish man too often beholds.