The sneering, hungry stare consumes my form. Roving over, reaving me, cleaving me from my identity.
Flesh is now a prison for others' expected pleasure.
Darkly shuttered is my mind, rage an armour that is too soft. Eyes fire signals that objects do not have, emotions battering apathy, digging heels into this well slickened slope.
Wandering eyes pause, wondering….a flush of guilt illuminates the flaw of your anticipation, your miss-managed imagination.
I stop, just there, feet planted squarely in the way. Your feet shuffle nervously, hands clench around sweat. Unclench. Our silence is burdensome, the traffic hums past endlessly. The word ‘bitch’ is half formed and choking on your tongue, a stuttered syllable is spluttered loose, before you realise you must step aside.
Hunger has hardened, heated your features but pleasure has fled. My own steps resume.
Aloft my chin, my heart, because I know what you do not.
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