I don’t want to be beautiful. I don’t want to be womanly. I don’t want to be desirable.
I’d give back every compliment and every lovers’ kiss if it meant I could take back the night he locked the door behind me and put the keys in his pocket, not long after they dropped to the floor when he undid his belt.
Why have I been so goddamn polite all these years? Why have I spent so much time putting on my lipstick and my smile? It’s like I made myself out to be sold.
What was my price, a drink at the bar? That chocolate dessert? The quarter tank of gas to drive me home?
He said I was so sexy.
Let me be clear, I don’t want to be sexy. No, I want to be released.
Art by Sofia Bonati