A Poem By the Sexually Exhausted

Headboard banging,

Restless moans,

How loud do I have to scream for you to hear me?


Bare naked breasts,

Uneven breaths,

How naked do I have to be for you to see me?


Legs spread,

Lips wide open,

But I am silent.

Only left to scream your name,

And nothing else.


Strip down my panties,

Unhook my bra,

Leave me defenseless,

And claim my body as your own.


Blindfold me to the power of my own genitals

Tie me up.

Restrain me.

Use me as your sexual slave.

The way they told you to,

The way you always thought you should.


Handcuff me.

Bound me.

Keep me locked away,

From condoms, pills, and IUDS.

Hands behind my back,

Restricted to the freedom of my own,


It is only your hands,

That cling to my body now.


And there on that bedroom floor,

Lies my sexual agency,

Entangled in the lace web of my hot pink thong.

The ones you told me to wear,

The ones you ripped from my body.


And here,

One morning after,

With my sexuality hidden under the dress that “was asking for it”

These hands

These arms

These legs

These breasts

Are not my own.


I am just a daughter.

I am just a sister.

I am just a girlfriend.

I am not myself,

But owned by others’ definitions.


I am soft skin,

Red lips,

And fuckable.


I am a news story,

A neglected statistic.


I am a slut,

And a shadow,


Invisible in headlines,

And bedrooms,

Doctor offices,

And pornography.


I am plastic.

I am lifeless—

Sex my murderer.  


The one penetrated my innocence,

Whipped away my passions and loves and fears,

And made me flesh:

Holder of fetus,

Carrier of sperm and egg.


I am a vessel.

Not one for thoughts and feelings,

Or dreams,

But for child,

And penis.


I am a factory of others’ dreams,

Other’s visions,

Other’s sexual fantasies.


I am your submissive,

Your sexual play toy,

Giving me orgasms,

And stealing my spirit.


Release me from the bounds of your sheets

And your masturbatory day dreams

Let me live.

Let me breathe.

Let me free.