His scent - for one more season

She does not love to be loved, but just as whim
Being desirous suffices her needs

She looks at men with her kohl-ed eyes
In her Velvety heel and black shimmer dress

she can find gaps in any man, from where she can slip

She says..the wanting look in men in truthful
Not the love they wear on their sleeves

They have all loved her secret strength
Not knowing she had always been in love with a weakness

But strange things happen with her always
The more she gets detached, the more men try to get her attached
The false stability makes her further unstable in her mind

She hates to stare at her mobile for someone's name
Nameless faces make her feel  alive now

She knows the game of seduction finally tilts things
One way or another,

She knows, men will get her addicted to something, and take that away
So the only addiction she trusts now is of alcohol and desire

Some women are meant to be lonely
Men have seized to be what she wanted them to be
A tryst with herself, a lump in her throat

There has always been..
This desperate need to look for someone who is in touch with himself..
So that he can touch her soul some day

For men, her mystery ends in her body, never before and never after
She carries her mystery with herself, never willing to part

She does not believe in greatness in men, mere thought disquiets her
Its the smallness in them that lets her be what she wants to be

She has been hugged many a times, sometimes for the body
Sometimes for the sake of commitment and objectification
But nothing in synch with her, nothing of the hugs she misses

All this rigmarole, cos she tried finding his scent elsewhere, but could not
She would never know what a life with him would have been, or if any of it was worth it

The scent of belonging, the scent of her womanhood
She has not blushed in eons