It’s been considered—
maybe I wasn't meant
to be
what you'd call
“ladylike.”
Sure, the word—
it sounds pleasant enough—
the way it rolls off the tongue
with its pale pink sound
& its clean contours that
kiss the corners of the mouth
just so.
What girl
wouldn't want to be something
that pleasurable
to sound out?
No.
I don’t want to be something
so subtle.
I want to be the word
that's craggy and creased—
the word
that bites so hard
on its speaker's lip,
all other syllables
slip the mind
& they're left
with only mine.
I want to be the word
you remember
weeks later,
& silently repeat to yourself
when you’re alone with your thoughts—
the word
that feels so satisfying to say,
it's unable to be muted.
Yeah.
“Ladylike” won’t hold a candle
to that word
when I happen to find it.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
It’s been considered—
maybe I wasn't meant
to be
what you'd call
“ladylike.”
Sure, the word—
it sounds pleasant enough—
the way it rolls off the tongue
with its pale pink sound
& its clean contours that
kiss the corners of the mouth
just so.
What girl
wouldn't want to be something
that pleasurable
to sound out?
No.
I don’t want to be something
so subtle.
I want to be the word
that's craggy and creased—
the word
that bites so hard
on its speaker's lip,
all other syllables
slip the mind
& they're left
with only mine.
I want to be the word
you remember
weeks later,
& silently repeat to yourself
when you’re alone with your thoughts—
the word
that feels so satisfying to say,
it's unable to be muted.
Yeah.
“Ladylike” won’t hold a candle
to that word
when I happen to find it.
© Bitsy Sanders, September 2013
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