Sexual exploration/exploitation

Bites like red juicy pomegranates
The washer hums a sweet tune
And my tooth wiggles free.
I look at you in the purple moonlight and all I want is to kiss you
but I am scared because what if the taste is not what I wanted in my
mouth
A sweet love like nectar.
Nectar hips could croon sweet music out of my heart
I could cry white tulip tears like the Virgin Mary onto your thighs
and never objectify
crooning nectar hips. Ah, a sigh, a release.
They don’t understand the smell of love in the streets
They mistake it for fear and pretend to understand the pain that
accompanied the un favored love
The kind of love between two women
Woah
Too powerful for the streets
“we didn’t think you were like that” or “we knew all along” or “we
always sensed you were into that”
Never equal
Always odd, eccentric, wrong
They painted W R O N G on my forehead in BIG red letters
That won’t come off
Too bad so sad
The boys thought they knew all along what it meant to be a woman
The next time a boy tries to tell me how to be a woman I think I will
remind him I possess the life force: creation is in my blood and bones
and he will never understand the beauty of birth and the hunger women
bleed like wolves.

Anonymous

Venuspoetry, submissionComment