I’m tired of being treated the way he treats me
Through his looking glass, I am only an image of a limp retired doll
Something to turn on when he wants to pick at heartstrings,
Or to make me dance for him, my insides tied to his quick fingers
I'm addicted to the way he strokes me with his fingers,
The way he plays me as i sing, scream
with numbing pleasure, the kind you feel reverberate within your chest
But i know he doesn’t feel the same
He only grips me tight when he’s bored, wants entertainment, wants to feel wanted,
He only loves the taste of affection dripping from between my legs
because i give it without question
He knows that he’ll have someone to disappear into when he’s craving the touch of red silk
Or to play with until he becomes bored of yet another game
for him, I smile, I laugh, I act, im easy to manipulate, to use,
But to be used by him felt innocent, felt lightheaded, felt giddy,
The smiles from him were enough to make me feel that i was truly alive
So i listen with interest and concern without him ever doing the same for me
I allowed him into my head before i kissed his,
kept him in my heart before i invited him between my legs
Dreamed of his hands long before i held them
But that was my mistake
allowing someone who i knew couldn’t provide me the love i so desperately craved
that's the cycle we spun in, my smile only used to *** on,
my throat to swallow, and my voice to ask for more
Somewhere deep down, I knew he didn’t feel the chest palpations, he couldn't feel the sun dappled against his skin, didn't care when i tapped out my heartbeat on his chest, my fingers feeling nothing beneath them
And to realize that not only did he not feel these instincts,
But that he does not care about me the same way i care for him,
To realize that im just someone to inhale and exhale,
and return to only when he wants someone to listen and to hold him
But im bitter now, bitter at the sweet i used to be
Because i always give myself to people who don't see my value
And only see someone to use, to watercolor yellow for a while
While they disregard my many emotions, my art, my writings
I thought this time i got it right, but i swerved left yet again,
excusing his harm as a fixable flaw
I ignored all the waving red flags
My red silk used against me

Susie Saviour is a Bond girl
From Weymouth-Turf-On-Sea
A swish, a sway; a fist, a fray
And home in time for tea.

She scuba dives for pleasure
Downdashious to her core,
But only when the flags are out
And never far from shore.

A beauty queen, a lisome lass,
A femme fatale, a flirt;
Serves martinis with a swizzle stick
This sweet assassin in a skirt.

Grant it
You stepped in
through a crack
like an assassin.

And yes
your prying eye
did establish how far
you could reach
inside.

Little did you know
Though
that the lady you made out of me
can see in the dark.

"Gullible"
"Bully"
"Risky"
"Courageous"

Red flags you waved before me
for your colourful entertainment
Pillars for my temple
And swords for my angels.

The light is shining
We're on display
The whistle blows
Nothing's moving
The air is still
Everyone yells
PA
4 beats of silence
And then it starts
The colors spin
The laughing begins
Then you toss
You hold your breath
As the colors fly through the sun
Everything stills
The light pours through you, you are endless
You catch
4 beats have gone by
Since the silence ended
4 beats is a lifetime

The flags interweave in a synchronous pace.
A pattern is formed and dissolves into space.

Kaleidoscope movement and the swish of a sabre.
What flows like dance is a pain and hard labor.

Glitter and make-up fluff and curls for the show.
But there's nothing soft about the rifles they throw.

The best part of the guard is not seen by the eye.
It's teamwork and sharing and daring to try.

When the show's over and the props put away.
There's always more practice and some time to play.

So just when you think the guard is all done.
Somewhere in a gym, they're still having fun.