Lips

 

If my body is a temple, why is it a sin to let people worship it?

The lips that scold me for embracing my sexuality are the same lips that told me to be myself.

I am not ashamed of where this body has been.

I am not afraid to show my skin.

 

But, his lips tell me that I should be.

 

She says I should save myself.

Then turn around and tell me my worth is not in between my legs.

I am tired of being patronized for self-expression.

I am a woman. Not a trap for predators.

 

Yet, his lips are the ones that asked me why I was walking alone at night.

He says I should be more careful because I am a woman.

Why does being a female call for a precautionary guide?

 

I want to say that I am proud to be a woman.

However, their lips tell me a dozen reasons not to be.

A dozen reasons why if I was less of who I am then I wouldn’t have been a victim.

I am tired of those lips.

For I know, I was marked with a target on my back the day I was brought into this

world for simply being born with a clitoris.

 

Lips, stop.

I know everything you have been trying to ingrain in me all my life.

But I refuse to be held back.

I am a woman.

 

A gender that was given the strength to sew disheartening lips shut.

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