I guess it's sort of like an anthem.

women don't get enough credit.

women are strange creatures,
claiming to understand love,
and what it means.
sometimes using those four words,
permiscuiously, strategically,
better then the way men play
video games.
we pride ourselves in our
sexuality, our hips and curves,
and how you lust at the part in our shirt,
our lips, craving them on your skin.
we feed that desire,
biting our lips, touching our chest,
moving our hair and swinging the hips
we're so blessed with.
we'll deny this, until the end of time,
because we're the ones who feel
what it really feels like.
we always remember, we always remember,
incapable to forget.
once we've fallen for someone,
even if it's lust,
that desire in our chest and below our belt
will be just as strong as anyone else's.
we play games better then you could
ever understand.
laughing at every joke, touching your arm
softly, sweetly, caressingly,
we're warm and comfortable.
we know how to make you fall.
we know that its not really love
yet.
and so when she smiles at you,
laughs at your joke,
bites her lip, giggles,
touches her chest ever so lightly,
drawing your eyes in, turns her head,
flipping her hair, looking over her shoulder,
blinking slowly with a smirk and walks away
like she's floating,
know that she's playing your game.
better then you ever could.