To my favorite black dress,
I’m sorry that I cannot bear to wear you anymore
Stares collected, comments made,
My skin prickles with disgust.
I’m sorry that your hem touches the tick above my knee
The one that marks lewd comments and sexual fantasies as warranted
The one that announces to those around me that I am, in fact, deviant.
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I’m sorry that you hang there in the corner watching me
Everyday I escape the spell that you cast which
Allows those around me to devour secretly without consent.
I’m sorry that my tolerance was weaker than I thought
Their voices holler and intrude into my mind
I pedal fast, wind whips my hair and my eyes water.
I’m sorry that my figure is a public spectacle
Those who wish to grope it, bite it, yell as I speed past
My legs burn, pedaling faster, hair ripping from my scalp.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry
Because no matter how many times I lift you off of the hanger
The voices yell louder
And I leave you hanging.
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