I'm tormented by the expectations of beauty and not upholding any of them.
Sure I favor a few of my features, but how can that compare to you or him or her?
--Ethereal portrayals of beauty.
So I try to spice myself up and market myself in the category of "appealing to the human eye."
I got two cartilage piercings here and a nose ring there, convinced by the fact that it would get me more stares.
Still not enough?
I'll paint myself pretty and outline my big lips. Hopefully they draw you in, make me desirable, make you want me.
Hopefully that desire to rises your plank up and casts me into your sea where woman of loneliness and despair dwell. They try to find their self-worth in you while you stab your sword into her unclaimed territory and consider it yours, one more lost virgin.
But is that what I settle for? Sexualization? It's funny because I am still a virgin.
So instead maybe I hope that's not how you see me. I wing my eyeliner more precise than the Pharos and captivate you in my gaze of brokenness and sorrow. You'll see the truth in my eyes, the cowardliness of my life.
But is pity that I settle for? Am I your own personal charity case? I don't think so, because sometimes I'm stronger than that sailor man. I'm strong because I'm steadfast and ever loving of myself. Though most times I forget and let my insecurities swell.
I am constantly torn between loving myself, and shaming myself. Being strong and independent, but being dependent on your desire for me.
So I'll wear my best jeans and hope you break your neck and admire that round Dominican ass like its art work from the MET.
But is more sexualization what I'll settle for? I can no longer guess. It seems to me that it's easier to be seen for what you can give, the body you are willing to let be destroyed, the favors you are willing to deliver. I've yet to meet a man that can sing harmonies to me and be a sinner. To see me.
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