Constellation magic, tightrope strung
between the thighs of imagination, rhythm
section in the Wonka factory your body is
tasty morsels is a table for dining is hidden
gem sparkles that fell from your heart above
to pussy below you are feline, equine, pettable
ride-able, ridden ass-slapped whipped to foam
you are dusted with the white powder of men
who drink the jellies and scrape you instead
bare knife bare buttocks bare just bear with me
they say it will get better we are making a big deal
it’s not that important it’ll pass get over it
but for the last time I won’t listen
I know who “they” are.
Men.
image from pixabay.com and edited with WordSwag