Sometimes I want to be held and whispered “beautiful” promises to but
Other times I need no excuses to run streets
caked head to high-heel in low-cut, skin-tight, green-light layers
Each curvature unapologetically weaved
into some savior’s careful bow
These curves were never hers to call home
They dwell under the thumb of some street man or
That sweet man you once called your own, but
Before he strived to own you
Like a toothbrush or a window
These things don't come so easy
For the one they call Eve
Or no, how did it go?
Something about an apple or a tree or
A woman free to live freely without a he
Though she’s meant to bare the root of all being
We
Pinned the scheme
On her

--
c