Women live their lives being defined as a little slash in a box labeled “no” written on a torn slip of paper. As if the way our pencil feels about another’s paper means we aren’t worthy of love at all.
Some people handle their “no” decently, and go on about their days with a tiny knot in their gut, and others change into the people our parents warned us about.
Most of the time, these people are the ones that take it too far. They shove unwilling answers down throats and push ideas into shaking heads. If our mouths scream no so do our bodies.
Then there are those that don’t even bother to pass the note. They know that they are built in the right way, we can’t leave even if we want to.
The way she chooses to dress does not tell you if it is consensual. Her body resembles the most valuable type of gold and when “men” like you take advantage of that, it hurts. It’s heartbreaking in so many ways.
You mock her worth with ****** knuckles and furrowed brows. A voice that has women trembling at the thought alone. You would rather let us live our lives looking over a shoulder than accept an answer you were hoping not to get. Forcing yourself between crying lips and thighs.
You may be satisfied when it is over but you will never have enough. Raising yet another fist and crushing a trust that was once so strong. There is never an excuse for actions so careless.
Who I choose to **** will never define me, but who you choose to respect will always define you.