Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2014
i sit there with
the cool wind
breezing against my face
while the summer sizzles
on my shoulders

your golden thigh
sticks to my skin
as we drive to the game
every ******* week

the boys
they sit in the back
and pack their lips
and talk **** about
the girls

the girls
who don't realize
that they're their easy targets
who skip around
in their short, tight
dresses

they talk about their waists
and the way they like to moan
every little imperfection
all avail have they shown

they think that it makes them buff
they think that it makes them cool
and i let them light their egos
and sometimes i chirp on too

but yet i sit and listen
and sometimes i think
they don't realize that i'm a girl
too

i don't know how i feel about that
olympia
Written by
olympia  nyc
(nyc)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems