SLUT dripped off your tongue,
colouring your lips in vibrant red.
SLUT danced around the hem of your cocktail dress,
tracing the lace embellishments.
SLUT echoed like a scream
from the skyscrapers of your stilettos.
SLUT wrapped around your neck
like a beautiful diamond necklace
and suffocated you until you could not breathe
- until tears started rolling down your cheeks,
lips quivering, and throat dry and hoarse.
Mascara, now smudged around your eyes,
looking like a battlefield.
You didn't want to give that word so much power
but you couldn't not give in
to the numerous times you've been called slut -
the memories making their way into your head,
recalling the individual incidents
(like the flickering reels of an old time's movie).
Is it so wrong for a young girl to want to dress pretty?
YOU ARE READING
GIRLS // Poetry --reupload (2016)
Poetryreupload (2016) A poetry collection that addresses girlhood and womanhood. Old view count: 1.somethingK & 100something votes © All Rights Reserved Highest Ranking: #34 in poem 4/1/24 #4 in poembook 3/28/24 #5 in...
