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The other woman
Oh tell me the ways in which you love me.
Why do I cry everytime that you touch me
Is it for what I know I can’t have?
Is it for what I know I desire?
Like wild fire -
Spreading through the depths of my soul
In quiet places, where men cannot go.
The other woman is there
The other woman is there always, sometimes only in a smile or a look, sometimes only a manifestation of male ego ... but one never knows.
My Secret River