Lying on the cold hard floor
Pressed against her shards of existence
melting away in the blood of lust
which painted her inner thigh
she, was no one,
Her woman, was no one
But a fragile, weak, vulnerable,
Seductress, slut, whore
Caged between a man's thigh
Struggling, wriggling, trying to break free
Let go of me, she would scream
But of course she was playing hard to get
Because even a blind man could see
That she was definitely asking for it,
the way she was dressed
And then came, the last kiss on the cheek
drenched in tears
And the grunts died
The weight lifted
The clothes shuffled
The warmth dwindled
And the cold had never before been this welcoming
To a corpse of a woman.
A woman with round breasts screaming,
Did I incite you?
A woman with plump hips and long legs asking
Was it those legs?
A woman with hair ensnared in a tight bun,
saying look I am modest.
A woman trapped in the sheer modesty
of being a woman,
I am a woman,
Devastated,
Violated,
Exploited.
The seductress should have gotten up,
And she should have danced around in glee
For she got what she wanted is it not?
But she did not move an inch
Never even breathed again in her life
Must have died of joy.
Do you see how absurd it all sounds
A woman died just like that
Strangled by a man's notion of womanhood.
He, as in the pronoun used to refer to a man
Thought she, as in the pronoun
Used to refer to a woman
Was no one, enough to valued
Her woman, was no one , enough to be respected.
And yet here I stand in this skin
As epidermic as that of any man's
And yes sir, I do have flesh and bones
And yes sir, I am a woman,
But while you should mind me,
Don't mind my Woman
