TEASE

“Empty-headed!”
Her mother scoffs,
Trampling on her quest
To attain The Look.
Unthwarted, she persists,
Craving the boys’ attention
Willing them to notice her.
Maybe even want her.
Maybe.
Her hair; long, wavy locks
Deliciously scented, coconut-ish
Her makeup; she’s a Maybelline girl
Hot, rosy-blushed cheekbones
Her lipstick; applied to perfection
Carried in that flowery case
Her grandmother gave her.
She gets “Slut”, or “Tramp”
From some girls.
But not the boys.
Blowing her cab fare
At the end of the night
On shooters, “by accident”
She giggles like a kid
“Just one more?…”
Spoken offers of
“I’ll take her home”
From some boys.
But not the girls.
She feigns innocence, but –
In her heart resides a dark fear
Quietly concealed from them all
Harm of which she doesn’t speak.
Tense, distracted, twirling her hair
While dazzling them with her disguise:
Doe-eyed, mascara-kissed lashes
Magazine-cover, sugary-glossed lips
Pseudo-carefree laughter, like frosting
On a cake of seductive enchantment.
Summer nights at the bar,
Denim mini-skirted under patio lights
Legs silky-smoothed
To an enticingly sexy sheen
Making the boys hungry.
Drunk hands on her bare thighs
Making her feel sick,
Proving to her
She’s got it right
Until they do things
She doesn’t want
Stirring memories,
She’s dying to forget
Silently they seep like spilt ink
Into her frightened mind.
Now she wishes
She’d got it wrong.
But it’s too late,
And she won’t resist
For fear they’ll call her
“Tease.”

Photo Credit: blondinrikard Flickr via Compfight cc