you don’t, nor will you ever, own me.

I am not a giselle you can chase until I tire,

When knees weak and breath deepened,

I am not the umbrella that shields you from the storm,

I am not a piece of meat for you to play with,

With sharp claws and pointed teeth

To devour when the novelty wears off,

I am not something you can own.

I am not yours.

So when you say you’ll have to “wear me down”,

As if sandpaper to wood,

Scratching away at anything rough,

Molding me into your perfect piece;

Please forgive me if I just see what I was so afraid of,

Even after you tried so hard to convince me otherwise;

I now see the shard that’s stuck at the back of your eye,

Refracting the selfishness that sits inside.


Those same eyes that looked and caressed my body,

Are connected to the same brain who thought you could own me.

You thought wrong.


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