This was something I found lying around among my other documents, so I thought I’d post it up. Wrote this back in 2007, but I edited a few grammar errors just now--such as past and present tense issues. Haha. XD

And I don’t even know why I wrote this in the first place, let alone it making any sense. Maybe I jotted it down in a moment of insanity, or one could call it poetic writing? Argh, I don’t even know myself… O_O

Tangible Woman

There was something there that she knew not what to expect of, and she should have known better than to approach such an impeccable wonder in the first place. What was there to gain when she thought so differently? Why would she care? In fact, why could she care? Such obscene masculinity clung to her, making her feel dirty in every possible way. Even without the touch of another (particularly a man’s) she already felt she had sinned beyond reasoning. Was she to be burned at the stake for it, when there was no proof of her wrongdoing, but only of the accusations adorned by her haters who wore halos above their heads much like angels do? Who knows. Perhaps when she’s seen the fearsome look in their eyes, will they understand that she was truly innocent. Lest they tried to say she did something in its utmost manner solely unbelievable and palpable to the touch and all other senses.