yesterday, two teenage boys in the street
stopped mowing their lawn to whistle at me.
it's kind of nice, being noticed, I guess,
to be seen
but at the same time,
I feel objectified,
like I'm meant to sit on a shelf and be pretty
like they're incapable of looking past my face and seeing me
I'm not a barbie doll.
I'm not a toy.
i'm just fourteen
when will you realize that, boys?