not me

I met him when I was very young.

When he came to our college and,

knocked on our classroom door,

I blushed because though,

I had told my lecturer that,

he will be coming just after lunch but,

I didn’t expect him to arrive so soon.

I had barely set down before a computer–

when he slid in.

He greeted my female teacher whose

name I can no longer grasp because–

it happened a long time ago.

It’s almost two decades that it had happened

but I remind him about it every Valentine’s Day.

It’s every girls dream to be swept off her feet

and I’m no different.

I had to ask him to come over to silence young

boys who played tennis balls on the streets.

Some of them played with girls and nursed

their dolls during their teenage stages but,

Thought they were men enough to can make

a woman of high morale,

with loads of morals,

like I,

happy.

Sometimes it’s not about pride but,

high standards one sets on her life.

I can’t stoop to a lower man’s level just

because he thinks that he’s man enough

to be with a woman like me.

I’ve heared elders criticise women,

who want to build their careers first,

than carry a man’s surname on them–

like it’s a batch of honour.

Not me.

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