Woman In The Color Purple

I, for one used to wonder, if there are plenty of fishes in the sea, why choose the one choking on air and illusion?
One who asks

"would you still love me, when, I am no longer young and beautiful?"
 

She, who searched for sweetness in the most wrong places.
It made her sick, yet she gobbled it down with what made her sicker..
She sat quietly with her mole like behaviour, while, kissing underdogs..

Paralysed with unhappiness, she faulted to an extreme by looking for dead bodies in the lost and found.

Deteriorating

The same dead bodies that utter

"You'll never amount to anything, Where are you going when you are of no value at an open market?"
 

You never ask a lover if you need to be loved.
It is an incentive-caused bias
Yet tragically in love with the idea of it.

Wondering why it is that,
One, is the loneliest number..
Like Snow White,
Contemplating whether to take a huge bite of the apple, or swallow the core.

That, Halloween late night feeling,
There was plenty of life wrapped up in your voice.
Emancipating the ghost within you, the ghost of the other woman,
A figure had emerged while
Minutes mocked the giver of oblivion.

"The jail you plot for me is the one you will rot in.."

You are saying a lot but you are saying nothing at all..

Never bother insisting yourself to someone who continuously overlooks your worth because
It is only when the tide goes down that you realise who has been swimming naked.