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

my ears.

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.