He dressed me up in fantasies
and kissed my painted lips.
He propped me up as a trophy
of his own benevolence.

He said no strings attached
but yanked on my heart
when I dared to detach.

He thought he could control me
when his hand slipped up my skirt.
He hoped to impress me
when he pressed into me:
A blank slate for his own desire.

Oblivious to my depths.

His hands could not capture my heart.
His words could not move my mouth.
He squeezed my lips and projected his voice
and claimed it was my desperation spilling out.

He hoped I would
cede my pleasure to him
forfeit my name to him
fill my womb for him
abandon my curiosity for him.

I should have learned sooner
his burdens were heavier than my own.
When I abandoned his dreams
I found everything I ever longed for.

Men say they don’t play with dolls
but they certainly played with me.