“Drunk. Hot. Easy. A cocktease….“
No. Fuck that. Fuck them.
Do not bathe in the steam rising off sordid pools they lured you into,
those filled with twisted recollections of reality.
Coveting your butterfly touch and those sexy, soft eyes
as coat hooks on which to hang their cloaks of culpability.
Turning away from your pain now, should they be betrayed
by their wanton glances, momentarily reflecting the misery of truth.
Fight their ensnaring lies, with deception sticking like feathers
in the tar of these torrid tales they tell.
Your little-girl-lost spirit inhaling a shaky, deep breath,
before bravely fending off cheap judgements born in dark rooms
where ugly flesh and thick hands, roamed your body, invading, oblivious.
Unwanted intrusions while you stifled your silent gasps and searing tears.
After, they sauntered away, absolved of blame, evading your crushed worth,
basking in power and arrogant lust, as if sex is their wretched entitlement.
No. Do not let them leave their filth and shame on you.