Colours

                            Colours

     
             


I want a man to dress me up,
I'm curious and wonder how that'd be...
I wish to assemble all kinds of attires
On a table, lit with the subtlest of light.
And then, I'd ask him to have a gander
At this naked woman, 
Ordinary or alluring,
I secretly hope
his eyes to mirror that for me!


I wonder, if he'd pick the  bright blue cloth
and just drape it around me,
Well why blue then...
Because its warm and gracious
And most likely the color that soothes his vitality.

Or would it be a red,
Because he sees in me a Lolita!
He might dress me up in it...
And stare at me
for a while,
And then decide
That some bright lip shade would be required,
To bury that innocence
I'hve dug out from my 
childhood days
To keep myself alive..

Or would it be a yellow,
Because he's had a sad day.
And the colour might just brighten up,
His dubious ways that are about to let him sink,
Or because it pays homage
to that glass of red wine 
That's there to sooth his soul
 and help him forget that forlorn day!

Or would it be a pink
For of course, to him
That's just more feminine...
He might ask me to let
my hair loose 
Such that it  falls down to my waist,
The cloth he'd drape such that it'd allow him a glimpse,
A glimpse of my womanliness
That keeps ablaze his virility...

Whatever colour he picks from that table
I'm quite sure, 
It  wouldn't hold
even the faintest reflection of me...
For that'd be a drudgery
He's sure to evade,
And instead he'd like to build his fantasy..

For he's a man,
And haven't you heard?
They've always been the builders, the painters and the sculptors.
And hence, they tend to build and sculpt
whatever it is that they wish to see!
Oh, do not blame them
For they sculpt a woman
 with nothing but 'love',
And believe, it's what she would
like to be!