Your Woman

Your Woman

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing7m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Jan 19, 2020
How do you define a woman? Is it seen in the way she dresses? Is it measured by the length of her hair? Is it reflected in the color of her eyes and skin? How much is her worth? Can you count it by the number of times she can make you feel pleased about yourself? Is she valuable because of the size of her bust? or by the way she moves her hips? or by the curve of her butt? Is she all that? Or is she only as essential as all the things she is capable of and willing to sacrifice? Tell me, what makes a woman? Or better yet, tell me what it takes to be YOUR woman.
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A question came to me during a reset. A question that has started bleeding through my veins. A question I whisper over and over in my sleep. A question you think I am asking passively. But it stitches into me, coiling around my being. A question I keep asking because it doesn't make sense. All that is left of the world is a city. She is the only person left. She doesn't know what happened, where the people went, why there is no life. You are there. But who are you? What is she? What is she supposed to do when the world resets, and more and more of the city is demolished. She's running out of time. *Completed*

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