You see my body like a treasure map to an island that needs conquering.
Harboring your ship in my hips, colonizing my innocence for your personal glory.
Pompously holding my map in your forceful hand.
But boy don’t you see, the rightful owner of that map is me.
Those red dotted lines outline my bumps, my curves, my edges.
That “X” marks my spot.
Yet you take my treasure giving nothing in return
You rip up the map so I don’t even know the way around my own body anymore
Handing me the paper pieces as an attempted apology,
I must find the glue within myself to put the pieces back together.
Boy, you taught me a lesson far more valuable than treasure.