there was a reason for walking away from you. it wasn’t fucking treason – she was not just in season, fruit ripe for you to take, and that was your mistake – for what’s between her legs. wasn’t invited for you to have a say, oh no.
and when he tried to reach up between her thighs, she knew that he was high, in demanding the access to the fields he wanted sown.
to find out that day, you were not a person, it was simple to them, you were a game to play.
and you know when you’re walking down that cold alley at night and some guy just happens to staring up the long lengths of your thighs and he’s asking if maybe he can have a minute of your time – and he’s asking you if maybe you wanna go and party with him for a little while – and knowing full well, he reaches out to touch you as if you had belonged to him – with his sidelong grin he says, says he wants a taste, even if its rape, he won’t be put at bay.
to find out that day, it wasn’t up to you, it was just up to them in that alley way. fuck no.
they forced you to surrender because it was your gender that they wanted to take, that they called out as fake – for what’s between your legs.
next time he tries, she’ll look straight into his eyes and pull a fucking knife, and say the next one of you fucks that touches me dies.