• Allison B.

ask for it

A Girl may be worshipped

like a goddess, but why

isn’t she always believed?

they lick her soft curves

like soft-serve, filled neatly

into her pencil skirt, but write

her off when she insists

her words hold meaning.

her polished fingernails are

filed away like her pride,

because hers is less fragile

than those of whom deny her.

between tightly-curled lips,

and knightly-poised hips,

is the well-pressed secret

of what it is to be a woman.

but when she breaks her

double-edged smile to say

that she hates the way her

skin is ripped apart by

unzipped jeans; how she is tied

down by more than the strings

of antiquated corsets, and restricted

beyond her foot-binding shoes;

she realizes they would

much rather lust after her

beauty than learn about it.

so rather than come forward

and be beaten in the pit

before bloodthirsty crowds,

she’ll walk in silence, knowing

she can listen for other footsteps

heading in the same direction.

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