Beast

My hair was dyed

auburn red,

curled and sprayed.

My eyes colored,

lashes long,

face painted

like the girls

shown pretty-perfect

in magazines

and in the wet dreams

of dirty boys

who only craved

the disfigured perfection

of media

representations.

“You’re pretty,” he said,

“but I usually date girls

more pure

than you.”

And, I then knew

I was trained

to make myself pretty,

but expected to be pure.

Told to be a good girl,

but desired as nasty.

Adored if I shaved

my perfect legs,

but fucked hard

and against will

if I shaved my pussy

to look like a child’s.

Fuck you

to the boys and men

who saw me as “fuckable,”

without hearing

my mouth

full of words

that spit power

incomprehensible to them

because they only

looked at my lips

in motion

like a leopard finding stimulation

in the movement

of its prey

before devouring.

Fuck you

to those

who say I wear

too much makeup.

knowing not

that my blackened eyes

and ruby lips

are not meant for you

or anyone

in the least

but rather,

are my war paint,

placed carefully

each morning as I prepare

to be the Warrior

killing other’s

insults and expectations

and so

I can look at you

with cat eyes

showing

I am

instead

about to devour

your misconceptions.

And,

do you know,

that

I too,

dream of the sexual

but to me

it is a union

between souls

who crave one another

enough

to bring the other joy.

So, you see,

you are the one

who is fuckable

because

your

faulty perspective

betrays

the beauty

of my being

far more beautiful

than the

photoshopped images

and porned women

who turn you on

only so you can

please away

the dullness you feel.

So, now,

look at this mouth.

Hear my proclamations.

My voice for all women

shouting

I am not “girl”

or “lady”

or “chick.”

I am “Beast”

I am “Woman”

made more beautiful

as I age

with fatten legs

less hair

wrinkled eyes

because

you

no longer view me

as anything

other than

A Woman Warrior.