I am not yours until I decide you’re mine,
and honey, those stars
just aren’t aligning.

There’s no secret
romance hiding, so for you
to see one in plain sight is blindness.

I didn’t want you, and
you still took me.

There was no harm in looking, but your
eyes have hands that
undress my dignity,
leave me nude and
stranded in the morning heat.

Hands to yourself because if
you had ever felt them touch
unwanted places, remembered
the faces which owned them,
the sexual loneliness,

you’d know I’m more
than flesh and bones, and my sense
of safety’s shattered.

Not that it
ever mattered to you.

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