Nothing can consume so completely a woman’s heart and soul
as to send the very spark of its beating to furry
save for love in all its arduous forms.
Yet with coal black ice seeping through the veins
men blink not to the pain of their torture
only slice at the heart more.
So with fury in eyes woman gathers
beneath her docile exterior
to complete the transformation to that of which she loathes.
When men shudder beneath her tiny grasp
then will they understand loves true wrath.
As well as the depth of a woman's soul.