I wish to know the secrets and desires of what pleases the opposite ***. I wish I understood what is it to please a man.
A small piece of sacrifice I give, to fall victim of the phallocentric gaze. What is it to please a man? Is it a dazing smile with crystal white teeth or the tiny waist and nice hips?
A woman with lips so effortlessly pink and pumped? Now I find myself looking at the mirror, holding and breathing in, trying to figure out why I haven’t got that figure 8.
Again, falling victim of the phallocentric gaze.
But a gaze never lasts, it’s a simple glance.
But it’s a thrill, a deception I wear like skin

I talk to myself, I talk to mirrors, I ask mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?
Because mirror I am by far not the fairest,
my beauty still sleeps in the mist of the unknown.
However, I am not the conventional woman and what man desires only man knows.
The covert obscurity is too blinding for my eyes, I cannot know.
I’m a lost soul and to find him, I have to find myself.
For I am just a rotten beauty trying find hope.
A crooked smile type beauty, skin filled with scars, got me still searching for my original pigment

Human pleasures, worldly pleasures, what is to please a man?
A poem with couple of beautiful rhymes or a conversation about politics and how society stole our dreams and visions.
An obedient woman, would that please a man?
Perhaps a hyper-****** woman, a voulez vous coucher avec moi but not ce soir my darling, I got my **** to get together.
For half these brothers are not worth the sin.
Half of these brothers aren't willing to fall into the hell of heartache for a woman. For half of these brothers can only offer me a quick message saying, “come see me”, and as an obedient ***** for me to follow. Laying with him to see how good the nature of man feels. For our skin to touch and our bodies mesh, bring our warmth to feel electric.

I need saving from myself and my desires shouldn’t be to please a man, but to please me. My heart shouldn’t skip a beat because my beauty or character was judged by a man, but my heart circulation continues due to the excellence that was given to me. So falling victim of the phallocentric gaze is no longer my issue but being something greater is my goal. So what is to please a man, I shall never know. But what is to please me?

- Cheyanne Ntangu