Subtle

You made me the other woman without me even consenting. 
You framed me as competition to your wife and when she saw me, 
she was confused because she was expecting red lipstick in a body con dress- 
hell, she probably thought I was a bottle blonde-

But I was still drawing hearts on my face, pairing every summer dress I wore 
with combat boots and poems about death.

I was the child you lured with handfuls of compliment candy, and 
your desk was your white van.

I absolved myself of any crime because I was too young to commit any.

Stay after, perform for me, denial.
I was playing dress up, and you were my surrogate father,
But you were not ready to be a father.
You were there to have your middle-aged ego stroked.
And you were all too willing to teach me how.

When I look back on this time, I will remember the way you whimpered and complained about a woman to a girl.
And the terrifying nightmares I had about being left alone with you in your office.

I appreciate every man who ever drew a line with me because you never did.

Glances held, emotions spiling; it was subtle, what you did to me.

Photo By: Markus Winkler