S.H.E (Safe hearts ended)

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.

A sickness, 

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
With love

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?


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