P for pervert.

In response to the a to z challenge

That gaze, no, gaze is too polite, poetic almost
That leer, the visual caress- crude, groping, slobbery- the snail’s trail of slime
A trace, that’s all you leave.

You’re gone from my memory, a flit, a blip,
Errors in transcription,
Lost in the useless loops of my DNA, waiting, biding your time-
The stories, the displaced dynamites-
A touch there in a crowded bus
A wink, hurried footsteps, clutching keys, wondering if your skin would break under the force
Wondering if I should scream or keep walking.

Do I mind you staring?
No, in your mind I’m a part of a collage,
That stretches, the length and breadth of half the world’s population. I am smudged, melted and reshaped, to create your fantasies. I’m your fuel, you sad broken tractor of degenerate morality.

But for me, you are an entity. A person, not smudged in like I am in your mind- thighs, breasts and ass-
No, for me you are more.
The curve of your lip, the hunger in the stare, the scorn, disregard in your gaze which is our reward for being the fairer sex.
I remember you.
I remember all of you, every single one of you,
Because none of you have a face.
You’re an universal identity,
You’re perverse, and that is stamped on your face.

I am an ass, thighs and a bra-size. But you? You’re nothing at all.
You’re just a sentence, whispered in universal solidarity.
You’re the pervert.


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