Minx
Harlot
Holy
*****
****
shamed
de-famed
un-named
disdained

D­esire
demonised
staked in
the pyre
to burn
churn
in Hell
Brimstone
and Fire

Unholy
Passion
buried
under
ground
deeply
depraved
dungeon
enslaved

Misbehaved
Devil
deranged
enraged
disengaged
spark
cag­ed in
the dark

Compassion
gone out
of fashion
banished with
Adam and Eve
still no reprieve

Time to
Rise up
cease
the lament
give and
receive
retrieve
re-discover
your inner
Lover

Resist the
descent
reset
turn the
wheel to
consent
re-claim
re-name
re-frame
re-train

Proclaim
this flame
this fire
this unbound
Desire
let pleasure
reign in
the garden
again!

Live for freedom
  die without consent!

such a heavenly taste it has,
the softness of the intentions so inviting and warm.
I feel you smile against me,
oh how the sun will shine on this moment in my memory.

vastly different from when a kiss isn’t just a kiss...
such a hellish taste it has,
the roughness only being soothed in passing by spit.
your hands are daggers against my hips,
oh the poison of expecting more when you didn’t ask.

What does that even mean?
***?
What is that?
If we’re both drunk does it count?
Because I am the definition
awkward.
So a drink in me might
do her a favor.
But just for the first time.
So I’m comfortable enough
to draw my line,
Or the line of hickeys
I left on your neck.
Consent.
Because you’re awkward, too.
A lovely Shade of shyness.
But all I could do was look you
in the eyes
and say you’re beautiful.
Then a tear streamed down your face.
And all that came out was
Are you sure this is okay?
Consent.
Because I’m not comfortable,
the way you’re comfortable.
The way taking off my shirt
feels like letting the sea inside me.
So I’ll keep my pants on,
until the lights are off.
And even then,
my scars are screaming.
It’s ringing in my ear,
my biggest fear.
When she stops and whispers,
Are you sure this is okay?
The first time I’ve ever heard
those words.
Was the first time I felt free.
For the first time,
I didn’t feel *****.
When you whisper in my ear.
I thought, Baby!
I love it when you talk
consent to me.

there's secrets, hidden beneath the corduroy
a world of wonder
where admission varies
guest to guest,
it's a game of guess
at whether you're let in
or you're like the rest,
corduroy's the fashion though
for sure
they'll be others
that hold you high up
just to push you down under