"maybe in the future" you say,
the question of children
and birth-giving
tossed in the air,
the bus seat i am sitting on
begins to feel like a prison
that has me looking for the exit
even though this bus is crossing
the intersection traffic lights,
speaking of traffic lights,
i am desperately trying to
send you a signal, a red light,
a firm no
no, i do not want to give birth
to your children
no matter how beautiful
everyone says they would be,
as if women just keep on
reproducing no matter the pain
because at least the outcome
will be pretty...
no, i do not want to give birth
to your children
because i like my full
8 hours of sleep,
i like returning to a house of
peace and quiet,
i like being able to hear
myself think.
no, i do not want to give birth
to your children
because i like the idea of
cleaning up only after myself
and my future cats,
i want to be able to send
postcards from all the places
my mother never got to visit,
i want to grow old and be
able to say that i have lived
a thousand lives -
the lives of all the characters
from all the books that i
will have had the time to
dive into.
no, i will not give birth to
your children,
because my body is my home,
and you will not be entering it
without my consent,
no, i will not give birth to
your children,
because do you know how much that shit fucking hurts?
no, i will not give birth to
your children,
i will not conceive something
i do not desire,
i will not give birth to
your children,
because, metaphorically
you'll stay,
but literally, i don't know
what you'd do,
and words won't suffice
this time
- no, i am not in denial, and no,
i won't change my mind.
- crimsyy
