Promise.

A real woman blessed with infinite pleasures. Depth you are taken to, an experimentation in loyalty as the world spins and the opera showrooms are empty we act our roles in shadows; these shadows this darkness, a new light in her blinded imagery of prospects. As the future is untold she gravitates towards attaining an opium high with a vale of uncertainty before her.

My real woman she does not have to prove her worth because everyday is a battle she must win and does. Love is war so it's survival must be battles, the ammunition of this war is care, caresses and ultimately love thorn games. I hate those but I love when you do them, understanding is the foundation of the house we built our differences into it's pillars. Escaping the ghost of future-past designated to fate, our twine stronger than the sheers of hades witches.

It's amazing when we think back on where we were “strangers” opposite of adults, but time and consistency in friendship lead us to being resonated spirits united to one cause. My hopeful prayers as I look into your eyes. In this restaurant with ballrooms a new order our playroom of lies and honesty served on silver platters. As I dip my head down for prayers I felt your spirit touch mine. I looked up to the sky's above like your there and I heard a whisper in the wind “no going back”. I smiled and have ring in hand my promise to A REAL WOMAN.