The Bad

i can feel your eyes,

glancing down at me as i tie my shoe.

our faces meet when i get up,

“you’re too pretty”, he says

i get butterflies.

you lean in and whisper,

“you’d look so much prettier without your top though”.

my butterflies fly away.

why? why must only my body be constantly on your mind?

why must you constantly sexualize me?

as my smile fades away,

you tuck my hair behind my ear

i couldn’t help but grin.

and just like that, i forgot about the bad.

and sometimes, i dream.

i dream about the you without the bad

so when i see you next,

i only think of the good.

and everything feels good.

until the bad comes back,

when you grab my waist a little too tight.

but i am tired of ignoring the bad,

as my mother always says, “respect is something that is earned”

so, if you can’t respect me and my body,

you don’t deserve an ounce of my respect.