She's Always A Woman To Me

(She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes…)

Lips the color of fire. Flaming red, raging. That full mouth, moistened ever so slightly with the tip of her tongue as she scrutinizes herself in the mirror. She presses her ring finger against the metallic insides of her silver kohl box and expertly applies black midnight to her eyes. With the curve of her hairpin she extends the line of darkness, arching it up, outside her eyes making them appear so big you can glimpse the universe in them.

(She can ruin your faith with her casual lies…)

She blinks once, twice, then reaches for the white packet, removes the transparent cover and peels off a big round bindi. Red again, this time a ball of fire that rests in the middle of her arched eyebrows.

(And she only reveals what she wants you to see…)

She stands up. Her white petticoat rises and falls with the curve of her hips down to her tapering ankles. Her blouse outlines her cleavage, teasing, taunting, working its way from her bosom to the hollow of her shoulder blades and then gliding down to her elbows. With the flourish of her hand she opens the sari lying neatly ironed on the bed. 5 meters of cloth- white with thick stripes of red and gold catches the wind, bellows and settles on the floor with a whimper. Round and round she wraps it, tucks in the folds just below her navel, smoothens out the creases with her hand and as the finishing touch shrouds her bosom with the free end of the cloth. It sticks on for dear life, hugging her frame, touching and letting go- her long legs, her flat stomach, her heaving breasts- before throwing caution to the wind and flying freely down her back.

She was almost done. She lifts her hands to tie her mass of black curls into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Tendrils tantalize her bare skin, leaving her with waves of goosebumps when she walks. Glass bangles slip on effortlessly over her delicate wrists and with lowered eyes that hide the anticipation mounting inside her, she leaves the room, ready to meet the man she was to marry.
(She hides like a child
But she’s always a woman to me…)