Me and Mine

I am not yours
I belong to me and mine
Yet you paw at me
Insult me
Objectify me
You ogle me
Humiliate me
Degrade me

You embody discourtesy
Void of manners
Void of class
Void of substance
I value myself
Where you deny me all respect
I am not yours
I never would be

I belong to me and mine

Help

I prefer to help myself
To provide my own
Safe space
Soft landing
Comforted by loneliness
I am free
In my solitude
To scream
Keen
Shed tears
Not fit for company
Hugs never hurt
But my healing
Is done alone
A private dance
To grief's tune

Days Like These

Days like these
When I'm delighting
In the lingering feeling
Of rope on flesh
My larynx releasing
Another octave into my voice
I think of you
Humming Curtis Mayfield
Your citrus scented
Breath in my ear
On a crowded Sydney train
That Darlinghurst terrace house
Where you brought me shiraz
As I luxuriated, bathing
Resplendent in my nakedness
Days like these
When I've once again
Hurt my jaw from playing
Much too much flute
Pushing those harmonics
Thinking in counterpoint
I think of you
Tracing the curves and edges
Your calloused hands
Slow and sweet
On a quiet beach near Bronte
That Darlinghurst terrace house
Where you brought me a corset
As I blushed, overwhelmed
Feeling unworthy of such attention
Days like these
I think of you

Courtesan

She does it for the pleasure of being essential
Not for the trinkets
Nor the treats
Presented to her with reverent gratitude
She has reinvented herself to suit perversions
A chameleon at every turn
As every man required a different shade of her
She has had so many now
She fears she has lost herself in their desire
But when he strips away the leather, the lace
The powder and the paint
She sees herself again
Blemished and mortal
On her feet rather than on a pedestal
She pauses to breathe
And commits again to serve him
The courtesan within her will always be victorious
She does it for the pleasure of being essential

Choice

Rise again, pixie queen
Do not yield to them
And their underestimations
As you were
You shall always be
An emerald rather than sapphire
A black pearl against a diamond
Quietly burning
Ever present
Ever courageous
Do not yield to them
Rise again, pixie queen

Surrender

When every word leaves me shamed
When everything I do is analysed and found wanting
I prefer to shoulder the guilt
I prefer to be silent and surrender

When all appears dark
When all seems to be lost
I prefer to remove myself
I prefer not to disgust you any further

When at last I have no more to give
When at last I am spent
I prefer to forge a new path
I prefer to keep my wicked self company

Silence

Silence is the healer
When synaesthesia colours every sound
The world through pain becomes much too much
Too bright
Too loud
Too hot
Stifling
Heavy and dense
Wading through great pools of oily sound
I beg for mercy
For quiet
Silence is the healer