As if it was painted on every inch,
Her body became a sculpture
Picked, prodded, jotted down in mental
Notes of bad to worse, good to great.
The smiles on the faces never portrayed hate.
The 1’s and 10’s feel outnumbered no
Matter the count; countless hours of self defense.
She built a fence
Portrayed as picket, but underneath
Barb wire runs wild, cutting through
the few pure hearts,
The few warm hellos.
All to protect misogynistic rationale,
The slick verses from burning tongues.
Love, what have you become?
Do as you will, she is numb.
Mainly shallow only on the surface, the
Only part these “men” searched with,
Pinning every sexually charged advance
Some stay sick of standing alone;
And choose to do their dance.
Circles filled with squares or boxes they’ve been forced in.
Passion passes away,
Leaving only shaded goals to penetrate.
Wait let me demonstrate. ..
..Her hips, lips, back, breast, thickness,
The body on her enough to feast on and become sick with.
Some know rights and wrongs
But still twist them between their teeth as liquorice;
Blinded by eye candy
The new love drug laced with lust
Destroyed their trust .
Then watch as they fall hard for lies
Focusing on pretty eyes and thick thighs.
These men defend mothers but casually discuss how to…
Slide in between, go deep on shallow smoke screens.
Broken ways that have been mended
By misunderstood acceptance,
They awoke as queens,
Yet alone, so they too
Made a deal with lust and slept with
A portrait exists of the women treated
Dined in substance taught to sons
From our father above.
But every inch became a shape to
Contort, twist, bend, bite overhype,
Over sexualize ,and fene for.
The exceptions exemplify similar traits,
That turn to capture prizes dreamed
For all to fit the portraits
Society painted of these men.
Talking sharp of cutting into innocent
pieces of skin,
Beaming eyes across city sidewalks
For short skirts, just to make it work.
Just to filter through camouflage
Some fight this, yet still enticed with
Facades of intimacy,imitating bonds of unity
Stripped down to bare walls
Crushed between two.
Sure she fights
But becomes a lost soldier along enemy lines
Hanging onto values built against
Her very own blueprint;
And now she’ll take firm hands
Washed in dirt that leave footprints.
As she held onto the trust she was slain with.
Another lifeless heart,
Not broken but faded,
Shallow hearts entered where safe hearts ended.
Sure our women can fight;
But why not us,
Why so afraid to sleep in
This bed if we made it?