There was a time I would have followed
you anywhere, do you know that?
What I would have done to be the thread
dangling from your favourite shirt,
for you to morph into my overhead luggage
and come see the world with me,
compare ourselves to Rome’s ruins
and wear black in Paris, speak French softly.
I’d run my eyes over monstrous skylines
with your fingers tangled in my hair,
those fingers the only souvenir I’d need
to remind me of every city.
Now you are a stranger and I am terrified
of even brushing shoulders with you.
I see your face explode into a laugh
I know so well but feel so detached from it,
as if I’m watching you through a window
three timezones away.
Your mouth is a ring of fire and the
flames were lit on the equator.
If you rang I’d dodge your phone call,
if we were in the same grocery store
I’d pretend I didn’t see you.
I would have done anything to be
the thread dangling from your favourite shirt,
but today I can barely mumble a hello.
Now, I would travel five light years
to scrub the grit from the
underside of a star if it meant
I didn’t have to see you and be
reminded of all that
"Don’t take a nude pic if you’re a famous woman and don’t want it leaked."
"Don’t wear a hoodie if you don’t want to be mistaken for a criminal and shot."
"Don’t get drunk at a party if you don’t want to be sexually assaulted."
"Don’t argue with a cop if you don’t want to get killed."
"Don’t walk home by yourself if you don’t want to get raped."
Victim blaming 101: Everyone should live in fear from ever doing anything.
I think “dildo” is a perfectly acceptable insult. Like, I’d call you a dick but you’re not real enough.