Cruising Alone

  Call your wife. Call your mother. Tell them how you talk to women like me when no one's watching— But of course, I'm the Outspoken B tch*, and you, the Outstanding Gentleman in your suit and tie. But sure— I’d rather be outclass than be hung like sea bass on your trophy wall, smiling silent while you call me “crass.” Your twisted kinks. Your polished lies. You think I won’t roar? That I’ll tuck in my shadow just to keep your sin safe? I own my dark. Loud. Proud. You will not cage me with your guilt-laced chains. If you were so happy choosing her over me, Then go flirt with her . Not me. Don’t you dare come here with your diluted apologies and leftover lust. I’d rather be The villain in your story Than your sidepiece in silence. Because I remember— You were a playboy then , You’re still a playboy now , And every time you smile and say “We’re still friends”… God, I puke a little. You know your name. Don’t play lost boy. Don’t hide behind your “Good intentions.” I used to care...

  Boohoo to your pity, I can't believe that your name means being virtuous to a certain degree. I can't believe I was so tired of creeps, that I was like whatever let it be. Seriously, the guy who was flaunting about sleeping with two naked women in dreams and I am the one who has lost it seems. Does she know you were bragging about the taste of her cookie? My true colours? Maybe this would make your face shine crimson red. I am weird? Boy, I shine with or without that blush. I am not that woman who ever wants your money, go pander to people who wanted to be your friend because your name was higher on that coder list. You think I was calculating to be your friend? I simply decided to be your friend. You think I couldn't see through the ways you were testing me? To see if I am a gold digger or if I can solve the question of tree. I do not talk in binary. Asking me if I can Google the term "Eat You." Fake? I was simply happy that you had less money as a kid and coul...

How often are we labelled as victims by those who never truly understand our struggles? This poem is a response to the ones who dismiss our pain, wear false masks of care, and think they can break us. It's a declaration of resilience, showing that every wound only strengthens our voice. You call me a victim, wear pity like a cloak, As if my scars are a story you wrote. Yes, I’ve been wounded, but I’m not weak— Each cut, each tear, made my voice speak. You claim to be a "good guy," parading your lies, But I see through the hollow in your eyes. You play with innocence, mock my pain, Buying toys, taunting, thinking it's a game. "Why haven’t you seen the world of lust?" I navigate shadows; you feed on mistrust. You measure love by the bodies you break, While I rebuild from the ruins you make. You say I don’t know love? Maybe you’re right— I’ve fought to survive, clawing through the night. But you, draped in deception, claim to care, Then chase fleeting warmth in...