All I can be is a sex object.
Let me lie in your windows
Feigning quiet repose
While your puffy eyes undress me
And your meaty hands, smelling of onions,
Think my body is your temple.

All I can be is a sexual oddity.
The rare woman, one of a few left
Who will let you make me 
The item of worship your feeble
Religions need to survive.

The scarves that shield my 
Naked body from you are silken
And fringed and translucent.
The rings and posts of gold you
Give me I use to pierce and 
Adorn my body, to make
Me even more valuable.

All I can be is a sex toy.
You dress me up and play
With my tomorrows like 
They were your todays.
You sit me on the chaise
And command me to recline,
Move my limbs to places
Where you find them
Comfortable.

You call me beautiful and
Make me cry in the same 
Breath, just so you
Can justify my tears.
All I can be is not me.


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