i hate when they look at me as if i dressed for themunashamed eyes
piercing through my clothes
x-rays scanning between my thighs
owning my body for a second
wet dreams of false hopesi hate doubting their kindness
when they paint me as a damsel in distress
their objectifying thoughts so loud
they vibrate through their eyes
travelling until the sound waves hit my ears
as if they wanted me to know
that depraved imagination sees no frontiersi hear their stomachs growl
when the top of my legs show
i see them swallow the excess of saliva
when i'm not wearing a bra
mysterious female body
instrument of fantasy
hidden under too much clothes
yet not showing enough
to quench their thirst
their hunger is our cursewhat a fucking tease
her only purpose is to please
and when my skin is showing
i hear echos of their mothers callingdinner is served
YOU ARE READING
In Lieu of Flowers
PoésieIn Lieu of Flowers let me offer the heaviness of the words my voice can't carry - would appreciate criticism or comments, & feel free to ask & I can read your stuff too🤍- sometimes it's about fucking, sometimes it's the nostalgia of an unhealthy c...