The man behind the mask

TW Sexual Objectification

My feelings are not a targeted attack.
The pain comes from awareness you lack.
A singular place where shame still resides:
absorbing disgust and letting it slide.

Though it made me feel sick.
The flick of your wrist.
Bad enough that you did it,
why make me feel complicit?

Your kind are the reason I shelter my skin.
A deluge of words to cover your sin.

But it’s no use.
I’ve danced to this tune.
You cannot hide in darkness
by the light of the moon.

To add insult you shared a detail or two.
That it was my soul you ejaculated to.
Does that make it better in your book?
Then burn it.

It is too late to ever undo.
I will no longer think of you.