Pt. I

I was crushed velvet and leather boots.

He made me feel small.

I barely reached his shoulders,

which meant most of his conversation

flew over my head

and probably wasn’t meant for me anyways.

But it was shielding

and protective-

even if there was nothing to hide from

I was hidden

beneath him.

It was cozy

and comfortable,

because I should be small

and delicate

and under his keeping.

Because women should be small

and cute and soft,

timid and fragile.

I wanted to be 

the paradigm of 

sterotypical femininity.

I wanted to be more delicate

than the flower petals 

you crumple under your fingertips. 

I wanted to be lace and 

oversized sweaters

but I am crushed velvet and 

thigh high leather boots. 

He doesn't wear boots.