pretty

"you're just so.. pretty

the word slips off of your tongue like poison

like somehow i am to blame for being pretty.

i watch as the lust darkens your eyes

and i tremble because I've never felt this frightened before.

and i remember how time stood still,

everything frozen in place.

and i remember my five year old brain

associating being pretty

with people taking what they wanted.

except now im fourteen, and pretty is all i want to be.

except for when he groans it into my ear

and my high brain begins associating being pretty with consent

and now im almost 16, and he never dares call me pretty

except for when im stoned and lying there, crying

because i cant be sure if i said yes, but i dont remember saying no.

and i start associating being pretty with love and everything is so hazy, why am i here?

and now im seventeen, and strangers call me pretty and my stomach sinks

because surely, they cant mean that

surely, they cant expect that i owe them something

im seventeen, and being pretty feels like a fucking curse