young lady

my mother used to warn me, used to say
"you're an attractive young lady,
you have to be careful."

don your lipstick,
put your heels on,
walk away.

that i should have to exercise caution
for fitting into someone else's idea of a pleasing aesthetic
was always such undue punishment -
that these thoughts should even be placed
in my young mind, that -

the man talking to you in the breakfast aisle of the grocery store
wants to have sex with you. this whole conversation,
"i prefer the one with granola,"
he's been imagining holding you down,
pinning your body, so small beneath him,
fucking you, fucking you, fucking you.

don your lipstick,
put your heels on,
walk away.

"you have to be careful."

that i should have to question, second guess,
why anyone would talk to me,
why? why, if not for
that.

that dirty thing i keep being told i'm supposed to like
while in the same breath being told to fear it, be careful, so careful,
and in the exhale, under the breath there, i can hear it:
this is what you're good for. this is it.

this is all.

don your lipstick,
put your heels on,
walk away.

when i was young i used to fear
halloween and monsters under the bed;
ghosts, werewolves, witches.

i grew up the moment i learned
that what i really ought to fear
is men, is sex, is my own body.

i wore makeup for the first time in eighth grade,
and my mother cried, said,

"be careful, be careful, be careful."

and i wiped the lipstick from my unkissed mouth,
felt it come off charred, burnt black.

i hid my body, this weapon against me,
clenched my jaw, lowered my brow,
hoped to god this was it, this was careful -

don your lipstick,
put your heels on,
walk away.

my first pair of heeled shoes, and my mother's boyfriend
told me that high heels were only invented to make women
look better for men.

i found files on my mother's computer,
letters she had written,
explaining to her boyfriend why it hurt her
that he was attracted to me.

never been touched and i was filthy, dirty,
ruining this, ruining, ruining.

i never asked for the attention;
just wanted to play with the facepaint,
just wanted to hear my footsteps click and clack.

i grew up when i stopped fearing the dark,
when i stopped believing in werewolves and witches
and started trying to arm myself with their tactics.

don your lipstick,
put your heels on,
walk away.

my lipstick is black
and my heels have spikes
and when i walk away you better know not to follow.

i will destroy my own body before anyone else has the chance to.
and i will take you down with me.

"you're an attractive young lady,
you have to be careful."

don your lipstick,
put your heels on,
walk away.