By: Sel Kute
The lungs of the eyes inhale attraction and exhale attachment/ breath, function for the fleeting moment/ when your soul is entangled in a heart-felt exchange with infatuation as an opponent.
She is Zoë
the enigmatic princess/ swift in her movements and measured in her grace/ sliding down the avenue of youth, taking an aesthetic detour through the treasures of space/ with wrinkles of imperfection sketched on her radiant face/
Stitched locks flowing from the strands of her nature/ complimented by the steamy bright eye retina’s inherited from her iberian makers/
Mellow glazed voice vibrations forming the timbre of her tone/ on her isolated own/ she stands along her convictions and dances along the lines of female heroin and fiction/
A simple piece for a simple woman.