In jungles and forests,
lions are king
So with buildings for trees,
in this concrete world,
the male species is king.
Leader, Ruler and dominant
While the lioness does what he deems below him
She takes care of his offspring,
Makes sure he has food to eat and she is the one who hunts for love
But following animal like basics
Often monogamy is not in his vocabulary and he finds one to not be enough
She seeks ways to justify his actions and wonder if she could get away with the same choices
Would it be justified if she said she was lonely?
That the light of the African sun was not enough to warm her
That the moon rays that shone on her during the night time could not whisper the words “you’re beautiful” in languages her heart could understand.
And if she said he dug her claws into her unexpectedly but gently
Made her purr and objected but gave in
yet it’s okay because it didn’t mean anything.
All of it never means anything until the King decides history is worth remembering,
Reminding her she has no right to question his affections because he was there every other night he needed her
That he made her happy and his roars of “I love you” should be the command for her to love his lies.
She was not to know strangers unknown to him because his duty was to protect her
Or control her.
The rule of the jungle is that the strong shall survive.
Would he be strong enough to internalize conflicts with consciences granted voices by insecurities,
Would he forgive her for allowing another king to claim her even if it were just for a night
And if she were the lion, would she entertain this conversation?
Lions and Lionesses
Kings and Queens
His and Her
You and me
This is about we