My vagina is not your amphitheater. Not a place to echo your selfish desires into. Expecting nothing more but your own voice returned back, confirming that your needs are the only priority here. My thighs are not the covers to a book in your personal library. You don’t own the rights to spread them wide to reveal all of my sacred and sexual information. This knowledge is deeply intimate and personal and I fear what you will do with that true knowing of me. My hips are not handle bars perfectly formed to your own grip. They aren’t meant to guide you deeper into my sensual self. My body has learned that the world we live in is dangerous. That the people around us are unconsciously selfish. An inner alarm within my being perpetually warns me of danger. So much so that I can’t tell the difference between threat and residual fear. The intense ringing that the alarm orchestrates dulls my senses and shifts me into an underwater reality. I have grown so use to the piercing sound that it’s become nothing more than background noise A soundtrack that scores my daily endeavors. I no longer trust the intention of the ringing. Knowing that my sense of safety and danger have blurred into one. -KN
