This isn't for you, sir.
I didn't sweep this glitter on my eyes
And place this silver around my hips for your sorry ass.
My curves don't wiggle for your delight
And my curls for damn sure aren't shining in the sun for you, either
I am not Persephone - my person belongs to me in every season.
I am what you see because this is how I survive
My exterior is a manifestation of me as goddess
I wear it because I'm learning I alone can protect me.
Go on with your life.
I'm trying to go on with mine too.
Let's exist in the common humanity of that mission and that alone. Alrighty?
Right. Well, your whistling doesn't scare me.
I'll take it as a steady drum reminding me to keep marching in time.
You'll join us one day, for your sake. Until then, fuck you, sir.
5 Comments:
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
In other words, thanks.