“You know you can’t be walking around looking all cute like that, getting me all worked up like this.”

As it turns out, I can.

As it turns out, your being turned on is not an excuse to turn off your brain.

This honestly sounds like a personal problem.

This is something I don’t have to don’t want to and am not going to help you with

‘cause this is what I damn well look like.

I’m incredibly glad your eyes work.

Now please use them to be introspective,

to look at your damn self.

It’s almost cute that you think I’m cute but there will be no cookies for that.

for coercion, manipulation,

for subtle passes from platonic friends

there will be no nudes for fuck boys

The only thing naked here is your dignity.

Put some clothes on that shit.

Maybe if you cover up you will stop trying to uncover me.

Most days, I feel like I’m on display.

Everything is a museum and I am the always featured exhibit-

but then again, no

because in a museum

other people are around.

Someone is there to protect you,

to make sure others don’t get too close to the art,

can’t touch the art,

let alone wanna coercively fuck

the art.

Maybe,

I would rather be in a museum.

I would rather be archived,

freckles inspected,

flaws documented.

Maybe I would even have to be put behind glass.

I think I could almost get into that.

I’d rather have something between all of this and all of me.

It is so much to be this interactive exhibit,

this always going

while they’re always watching

this target on my back.

Do you know sometimes I feel so hunted I mean haunted I mean fucked up that I can’t even actually fuck?

Can’t love my lovers because all the trauma is there too

like sometimes right before I’m about to connect with someone I disconnect from myself.

I find the ghost of every invalidating moment that undressed me after I was already naked is in bed with us.

My mattress is just not that big but in situations like that I have to be,

Be big be strong be teacher

I have become a classroom.

I use lessons I’ve planned but hoped I never had to teach

about consent or respect or basic communication

and just like any classroom the students shit talk their teacher when she doesn’t give them exactly what they want.

Students talk over my lectures

Refuse to take notes or do homework or prep work or work at all.

So there will be no lessons on feminism today.

Well maybe just one- google it.

Published by ampersandthenwhat

Writes poems. Tries to be a better person everyday. Doesn’t have it all figured out.

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