About a Girl
your lips were quivers holding the arrows that would strike her with a sign of danger like a high-pitched, breathy sword coming out of it's sheath and she shivered at the whistle because she knew what you meant only a little too late
your form was a roadblock in her way pinning her between canyons and cliffs treachery that she blamed herself for because she had dared to wear heels and she tried to scream why but not loud enough
who was she to think that she could walk around without being held or pushed against walls that seemed designed to compromise her humanity and make her into a little, perfect doll for a sick desire