love,
am i supposed to
toss my clothes away?
am i supposed to be naked?
am i supposed to do the deed?
just
for you,
to glance over me,
for you,
to adore, love and fancy,
for you,
to devote yourself entirely,
and
for i,
to be worthy of your time?
its not you,
but your desire of lust,
what made me miserable,
as if i were just a disposable little girl when i am your woman, my love.
khayr.q
YOU ARE READING
ownness
Poetry: the quality or state of belonging to oneself. trigger warning: simply, a person that finds comfort in their own words.
