Coquettish; a slam poem

Coquettish

You propose to know exactly who I am from one look

Like you are the duchess of judgment, the princess of premier intelligence, like you are Madonna

You think that you can simply assume that I am mass produced, loose and flexible enough to fit into a packing box like you. That you can send me off to a realm where I am vulnerable. Bullshit.

You see, you are a believer in the Beyonce beat; that girls run the world by showing skin on more than their feet. That boys will bend to the unbearable heat of your 25 cent sneak peek. Lying about the life you seek as you sip a bottle; tongue in cheek. It’s just one time. It doesn’t classify hypocrisy in your self proclaimed odyssey. You wish that you could follow me but even your toes are threatened by the concrete, two steps behind me.

Dreamin’ on false doctrine; Jesus didn’t tell you that. John 3:16. Yeah it doesn’t mean that you can claim insanity since either way you’ll live eternally. Don’t blame God for your lonely mistakes that you calendered for Saturday with what’s his name? Jake?                                       You can’t even remember; too busy singing with Drake. He says he better find your lovin’ and your heart but wait…you left them at home with the rest of you.

A shell of yourself is all you came to. Don’t take it out on me; I don’t know you but I hope you’ll realize that now I don’t want to because you’re the kind of girl who makes me wish I was a boy. You give us the reputation of a slinky toy; for a good, not a long time. Way to let yourself be defined; quick like a shotgun but I won’t bite the bullet. You judging everyone else is just a precursor; cock and pull it.

Your mattel made mind is sick to think that you can hide behind trends and the color pink. These things don’t make you sweet; a rose by any other name would seem so much nicer as you mutilate others hearts in a deli slicer; proving the same sexist dogma you claim you’re against. Women belong in the kitchen, a proverbial fence put up by scared men because of ladies like you who live as feminine monsters.

I’d keep you locked up too if you treated me like a hungry dog that you just thought was greedy. I am sick of your goddamn pretense. You are no princess. You are not entitled to hate…so quit marching into my shop and making the bell on the door ring.