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bahulakaji Mar 14
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.
Man Feb 23
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
Academic conversations about consent are a pure form of agony,
Listening to students and Professor toss around the word like it's a hypothetical commodity,
As if there is question that autonomy and dignity belong to every living thing in that room.
We are asked to dissect the most intimate of physical safeties as if this is a lesson in biology,
Solve 'consent' like a particularly challenging calculus problem,
Pretend as if this didn't happen in the confines of my body.
It's excruciating to have to take an equation,
We'll start with y=mx+b,
And calculate which variables determine basic human decency.
I was young, female, gay, autistic, bipolar,
Clinging to his professions of love like they could stitch the gaping emotional wounds,
And somehow that didn't make me human when he did the math.
I don't know how to argue, Professor, with which philosophical tools,
Professor, that I was a person, Professor,
When he decided to **** me.
Josh Overson Feb 14
Oh sisters
My dear sisters...

I, born to explore once could ignore.
The misappropriation of your trust.
That with in my own heart if left alone could lust.
A girl well loved and positive Lord pray I adjust.
If not I a trapped door soft in rust singled dust.
Will fright without consent of others.
Still uncovered a sort of lover.

Disguised as another... I came to breathe,
My mother warned me...
With hardly any life to free,
He still chose me... Fallen back in two,
Back to a friend I once knew...
Her heart preserved news, Only we knew
A prayer that your brightest moment are spent with those you love..
Nuala Nov 2020
Can you hear me, can you feel me?
You can feel me
purple spiderwebs mark my *******
proving that you can
so if you can feel me why can't you hear me
i think i said no
i said no
but you're invading me still
unwelcomed visitor.
I closed the door and you don't have a key.
but you don't require one, do you
you have a lockpick. a lockpick on each finger.
the skeleton key on your tongue.
Beckie Davies Oct 2020
I don't hate men
No, not at all

I am simply aware
Of what they are capable of

I don't hate men
That would not be fair

But neither is the act
Of *** without consent
i don't hate men
Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
my hands are in your hair
and your hands are around my neck,
and you’re choking me,
but I’m letting you choke me.
and it’s hard to explain
because I am not in control, you are.
but I am choosing to let you have control,
and that choice makes all the difference.
_________

my ****** did not listen
to my voice saying “no,”
but he did not take away
my ability to say “yes.”
I am a **** victim.
I am a woman who enjoys ***.
I am allowed to be both.
and if you can’t understand that,
you are part of the problem.
Kamilla Jun 2020
“Is anyone listening?” Cried my conscience
Teary-eyed and locked away at the back of my mind
Staring in horror,
At the disgraceful scene laid out before her
“No feelings, no right… no consent.” She screams
Clawing at the darkness,
Unable to speak through to me
“Is anyone listening?” It was my turn to cry
Teary-eyed, locking myself away in my mind
What causes more pain, regret or guilt?
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