"May I hold your hand?"
He asked with soft brown eyes and an overconfident smile that showed with pride.
I'm not one to be shy, but he had my stomach-turning.
I could still hear the sound of the beach.
His hair was wet and slightly curling, yet his skin was dry and tan as could be.
The way he asked me for such a small thing, it told me he cared.
It made me want to be his one and only.
Later when we're walking down the beach, I hear the worlds,
"Can I kiss your lips?"
He asks as if I wouldn't say yes.
He asks because even though it may seem a simple request, he knows the answer isn't always yes.
So sweet and innocent is he.
Then, the clouds start rolling like his tongue against my cheek.
I feel like rain, hitting me harder than it should be.
The thunder, screaming, telling me it was all just a dream.
My sobs as my eyes open to the nightmare that is the reality.
To the reality of men no longer asking, no longer caring what I think.
The nightmare of living in fear, to be careful with what I wear because even though I may say NO, I'm the one 'asking' for it.
Blame the victim the world says, yet if you were truly a man, you would've asked.
Get over yourself and ask first.
