I’m not walking down this road for you.
I’m just heading to the gym actually.
I know my leggings are tight,
But that doesn’t mean I want you in them.
No. I won’t smile for you. Even though
you asked so nicely. Yelling at me so I
would hear your voice over the music in
No. I’m not a fucking snob. I’m just minding
my own business, maybe you should too.
Don’t stumble toward me on a dark, empty street.
I don’t want to be, but I’m afraid of you.
I’m afraid of what you might do,
fuelled by alcohol with no one here to witness it.
When I tell you to go fuck yourself, why are
you so surprised?
I was just walking. Going from here to there.
Then you decided,
I owed you something.
That my existence on this street means I deserve
whatever you say to me and that I should do
whatever you ask.
Smile. Okay I’ll smile. Is that better? Am I
prettier now? More approachable?
Do you view my smile as an invitation?
Oh, you just want to talk?
I’m so sorry for being such a bitch.
I mean, shit, I’m such an asshole.
Walking down this road, listening to my music,
avoiding eye contact with you.
How dare I ignore your existence. How dare I
ignore your leering eyes and snarling lips.
How dare I ignore the hand gestures and innuendo
you throw my way.
How dare I walk down this road expecting to be
left the fuck alone.