"We got that" waiting in the clinic" silence.
That “shhh, don’t tell nobody what we did” silence
And I’m so tired of being your hamper that
I’m about to dump out those week old ketchup stained secrets and do laundry in that silence
You like keeping it quiet.
But my vagina is not your walk in closet.
You wanna stuff your unmentionables through me,
Want a place to hang up your insecurities,
Want me to keep check of your hand me downs and Prada,
Waiting for every occasion to put me back behind closed doors and lock me in the darkness.
Nobody knows you hold my hand
And nobody knows I call you baby
And nobody know you write anonymous poems about me, the type you can’t post on Facebook.
Because regardless of what you may think I’m worth or what you may think I deserve,
I will never be “that girl,”
The girl that’s only allowed to make you smile when she’s making you orgasm,
“That girl” whose day job is daydreaming waiting for her night job.
“That girl” who’s so in love she will turn her body over for your superficial touch.
You hide me behind locked doors and bed sheets because if you dare reached out
Then everybody would still know that it was still about me.
So that in your heart and in your mind you’re still wrapped up in me.
My teardrops you own them,
My hearts strings you got them tied around your pencils and fingers.
Yea, you may say it’s over
And you may never tell me that you love me
But you don’t have to ‘cause your silence speaks volume.
You wanna hold me in your arms, rock me to sleep, then act like you don’t know me.
As if the moments we spent together are some kind of down payment.
As if my bedroom were lay-away
And that’s all you ever do is lay away
Pull up beside me but in the morning pull up the hoodie and run the other way.
I’m like that bastard child
The reason Daddy never stuck around in the first place
But for me rejection doesn´t come every other weekend..
It comes when you lower your head and pass by without speaking
And I remember there was a time you could barely take your eyes off me.
I just don’t understand why it’s not okay for you to love me!
I guess you just want me to be “that girl.”
The girl everybody wants to sleep with but nobody wants to be with.
Only good enough for finding a suitable replacement.
And not trying to make up for the mistake
But you try to convince yourself that she means everything and you want nothing to do with me
But come on baby, she looks just like me!
Read the signs or at least the facial features
Cause I was your first, your only,
The prototype and she’s just a duplicate
And you can never make copies without first consulting the blueprint!
You know what they say the sequel is never better than the original.
And she tries to write you stories but you know they’re only half as good,
So half squinting, you only hold her half as tight as you should.
‘Cause your other half is tangled between my bed sheets,
And your other half is complete within my mind, soul, and body,
And your other half is french tonguing me Monday through Friday.
I’m not fighting for joint custody.
I’m fighting for RESPECT
Cause I will never be content with being your back door hoe.
Your something on the side,
Your something to do on those lonely weekends,
Your closet freak.
You will never produce me to be a skank and a whore that will love you.
I’d rather spend every night crying alone on my bedroom floor than to ever be “that girl”!”
— Alysia Harris, That Girl (via hailthesunqueen
This is so fucking scary relevant to my life.