your lips were quivers holding the arrows
that would strike her with a sign of danger
like a high-pitched, breathy sword
coming out of it's sheath
and she shivered at the whistle
because she knew what you meant
only a little too late
your form was a roadblock in her way
pinning her between canyons and cliffs
treachery that she blamed herself for
because she had dared to wear heels
and she tried to scream why
but not loud enough
who was she to think
that she could walk around
without being held or pushed
against walls that seemed designed
to compromise her humanity
and make her into a
little, perfect doll
for a sick desire
A/N: I had to read this poem in front of the person it was about...almost died, guys. It was terrifying, haha. This is one of my creepier poems.