I dress
modestly enough
to impress myself
I choose from two skins
show ******* or show legs
I've learned that doing both
makes you slutty
not my words
not my decision

I am not usually bothered
society is a fault
but then I remember
and get new examples
every time
I want to look nice
only for me

I am asked who I want to impress
I look attractive
not like every other day
and is there a man in my life
because I must only do this for him
yes, yes, you are sure
and I am an object

This reminds me of long ago
of a childhood halted
and of a different dark night
where my foolishness
caused me to suffer
always the fault of me
I always continue
to move forward

But these steps back
caused by greedy eyes and fingers
and sweaty palms and simple words
and nice gestures
never explicitly stated
these will all lead to me
disappointing someone
because I can not deliver anymore
that which has been taken from me

I carry the knowledge around always
I am not my own
I am pieces, scattered, taken
fleshy longings
I wonder if it is a lack of control
or a gesture of dominance
on their part
but it really doesn't matter

This is already reality
I exist solely for others
and I was never taught this
by my mother, who now mentions
I turned out wrecked
and horrible as a result of a childhood trauma
that I don't know how to fix inside of me

I want to give myself away
to any man who shows me a tiny
piece of the affection I crave
and it's dangerous
and I do not let myself know any man
I do not make friends
or talk to people more than necessary
and I don't even want to know
what they think of me
I fade into backgrounds
and behind white noise

I'm not even distraught
as this is my only choice