Friday, October 1, 2021

cat calls

i miss being whistled at,
she told me,
i miss the days
when men would yell
at me from car windows
and ask me boldly out
on dates.
gazing at my body,
from lips to hips,
and legs.
i was a dish
in their eyes, hot on
a steamy plate,
but now i'm invisible,
with my weight, my age.
it's almost
as if i don't exist anymore
that men of a certain
look, brawny or sophisticated,
men on the hunt,
no longer look my way.

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