Nasty men poem/venting

You can smell it on them

The smell

The desperation lingers when they leave the room 

It’s in their walk

In the way they speak

The hunger

The thirst

It’s an aura

It’s a smell

It’s a look

Only those who have the gift can notice it.

Only the choosen can smell it.

How did we get this gift?

It was one we never asked for.

One we would give back if we could.

It’s not a gift 

It’s a curse

Take it away

This shame

This guilt

This pain.

Nasty men

They gave it to me

I don’t want it anymore 

I love it

I hate it

It is me

It’s not me

It’s them

But it lingers on me

Like a cheap cologne

Or a warm hug

It came from a warm hug

Now it’s a cold sweater

One I can’t take off

Am I special now?

Now that I’ve been choosen?

He told me I would be.

I’m not.

I’m just broken

A broken shard of glass 

But everyone thinks I’m whole

They don’t know everything that fills me up leaves me twice as empty. 

I’m broken

But I’m fine.