She was the stereotype, living off society perceptions.
Living hard, taking joy rides and oozing happiness.
Dishing out free meals to boys who treated her with
disrespect, fed her with fried lies, shady cocktail drinks
and stunts and later discarded her like used condom
wrappers after their carnal desires have been met.
A few compliments for kisses, trading flirts for dinner,
cocktail drinks, parties, complimentary tickets and sex.
Attracting a particular type of guys, falling for the same
beats and rhythms. Paying homage to her hips after dark,
loving the fronts and stunts.
Crying foul and blaming her own inconsistencies.
She wore a perfume called, “cheap”.
A stench most peculiar and attractive to some males.
As she strutted by the side walk in her short tight dresses
showing off her beautiful derriere and cleavage.
The theme was sexy at dusk, and ratchet at dawn.
Caressing the same tales of distress in between
public lavatories at clubs. A public shaming
most sufficient for all the attention she sought
as he traded her with big tits, big booty, and Miss sexy.
A competition that most often left her depressed
confused, paranoid, insecure and bitter.
She created a lash statement to console her inadequacies.
Calling all male folks, “dogs”
Unaware that dogs are drawn by scent and she should
check the scent that she is giving off.
Falling for the same type of boys, enabling bad behavior.
Myopic to truth, respect, honesty, self preservation,
decency and pride as a woman. Ignorant to the fact
that not all men are dogs and there are good men who
would love and respect her if she learned to respect herself.
Marginalizing her thoughts to feel good about herself,
putting herself down with accumulated perceptions and
skewed lines of thought based on bad experiences she
allowed to happen to her. Blind to the truth hidden behind
all the floss and cake on her face, expensive clothes and shoes.
A resilient beauty falling short of who she is as a female.
Lost, hidden behind a fake identity.
Taking more just to please boys, losing more as a woman.
Calling all men dogs, unaware that it takes a bitch to know one.
Questioning where all the good men are, unaware that she attracts
who she is. Queens attract Kings; cheap perfume attracts flies and
free products make the most sales at the flea market.
It takes more than just a pretty face, all the makeup and accessories
to snug a good man who will love and respect her.
Not all men are dogs, a closed reality she’d grown accustomed to.
Perhaps, she will add more value to the product she has to offer and
change her perfume. Then she’ll find a good man. A respectful,
mature, intelligent man who will love her for who she is, treasure
her and erase all her bad memories and perception on men.
A man who will appreciate the woman that she is even with all
her imperfections; uplift and value her as a woman.
Loving her as his partner, confidant and friend.