A women love is a prayer

A women love is not a flame it's incense rising without a name it weeps in corners, wraps in grace it fights and then leaves without a trace you will never hold it into your hand it's not a thing to understand it's speak in glances, dreams and rain and holds her joy inside her pain she will never ask but always give and love in ways no man could live not made for words and empty air a women love is a silent prayer.