Poetry

FMH

by anonymous

 

(to KM)

I can walk across broken glass
strewn fields of sand
in high heels
and still have the perfect sway
in my hips to catch every eye
poise
takes effort
concentrate on the smile
so my eyes don't squint
into nothing
I'm well practiced
flawless
posture and grace
pinky up when I drink
you wouldn't know
I came from white trash
I can bend and fold
any man to what I
want
make him think he does
too
but you
you
strip me
naked and cold
barefoot in the ice and wind,
flat feet, scars, and that ugly birthmark
shown under the moon's light
you see it all
and won't let me
put my heels back on
quite yet

 


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