A bust line with nowhere to spill but over,
she walks with the footprints of "follow me" trailed behind her back.
A gaze labeled lazer beam, "fuck me"
and a broken, leaning smile,
that loves to toy with you.
She'd never give it up,
not until you truly deserve it
and most don't stick around for long enough
but she chuckles watching them leave because she knows the magic she has hidden between her legs.
It's the kind of gold rainbows wish they could capture,
many a leprechaun has chased after,
but believe me,
there is a story in her swagger.
Has to do with a missing father
and his replacement.
Lack of hugs
and the hands she was raped with.
It's unneerving to find out what the swing of her hips is laced with.
She wants the love of a man
but not the pain.
But every example she's ever been given
was all the same.
So she wears small shorts
and innocent smiles.
Prays for a father card out the deck but pulls a wild.
She is a Queen with a missing crown.
A Goddess who doesn't know where she came from.
Angel with stolen wings.
Amazonian princess with a missing bow.
She's fallen so far from grace
that she's begun to think that the way people blindly treat her
has anything to do with the beauty she was born with.
She wears sexuality like a tradgedy
and when she call her beautiful
she takes it as a threat.
And on the days when she feels it's true
are the worst because then it's her fault.
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