Don't ask my what my name is
It's not a wolf whistle slung over your back
Or a wink from across the bar
It's not a shallow bleat
In dimly lit streets
When I've finished my shift for the night
I warn you
I'm not as delicate
As my waif fingers
Methodically buttoning my coat would suggest
We are fierce
Can write poems
And still protest "Up yours!"
to hollering dogs in the back of cars
Don't ask me what my name is
You don't deserve
To carry its glory on your tongue
It could be so paramount
Other worldly
Only
You never bothered
To ask
About the Creator
Victoria K
24 yr old woman. Writer of mental health experiences/feminism/poetry. Lover of coffee. Hater of single use plastic.
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The Bloody Blood in Your Veins
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By Rene Volpi 5 days ago in FYI
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