Anything But Poem by Zyw Zywa

Anything But



Talking to men
who I don't know
singing along with the music

on which I dance in the eyes
that follow me
like shadows

wishing to be desired
without being in danger
dressed for it, that too

is who I am, free
to the extent it is permitted
by the hell

of other people's eyes
that love my body
and hate me for it

but that's not me
I am anything
but what they think

Friday, March 27, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: freedom
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
"Huis clos" ("Closed doors" ["No Exit"],1943, Jean-Paul Sartre)

Collection "Webgarden"
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