I Will Sell Myself To You

I have no purpose but to look lovely in the light. Tell me, do I do it well? Your eyes graze the colors on my skin, and your fingers touch my spine. Open me, won’t you? I’ll sell myself to you.

You don’t want to hear my sad stories. You don’t want any tears on those sheets so thin. So let me paint you pictures in your mind, and let me ravish you with my words. Devour me, won’t you? I’ll give myself to you.

You will choose me arbitrarily, like a can of soup from a shelf. You don’t want to know what my label says, you just want something to fill you up. Buy me, won’t you? I will satisfy you.

I want nothing more than to show you what I look like from within, but you will do what you want with me. You will turn me in your hand. Touch me, won’t you? I will move under you.

My life is not my own you know. I am what I sell, and what I sell is what I am. You will take me into your bed, and you will hide me under your sheets. Release me, won’t you? I’m dying under you.

Can’t you hear me screaming, or are you just too deaf? Instead you take me with your eyes, and I am burning under your searching gaze. Hear me, won’t you? I’m crying out to you.

I am without a voice, and for all my words I have become dumb. There is nothing left of my world, and there is nothing left of my mind. Drop me, won’t you? I can’t go on with you.

I’ll leave the world with a legacy, but I can’t say what that legacy will be. When you see my silent memory - pale pages with black lines of pain, remember me, won’t you? I did it all for you.

Am I an author, or am I a whore? My body is bigger than my mind. You’ll do what you want with me, and you’ll turn me in your hand. Open me, won’t you. I’ll sell myself to you.