Love games 

It’s unfair where women are put,
On a narrow little shelf
made to contain us. 
When we’re left alone
And try to reach out- 
We are simply too needy,
Too damned needy.

Yet, when women are gone out 
For a night on the town-
A lack of communication 
Is enough to hang them,
To brand them sluts
And those fucking whores,
Those fucking whores out there-

The only time “feelings” are
Important are when they 
Are yours-
The conversation becomes serious
When the men decide
That maybe- now- it’s serious,
It wasn’t the right time before.

But if a woman takes a love-step
Before a man
She’s deludedly mad, and 
Should take these steps back- 
Clearly he’s not wanting to 
settle down, but don’t fret-
You’re too young for something serious, just yet.

So Women are put on the bottom shelf,
Gently dusted off when used 
As vessels for what he’s drinking tonight,
And what they’re drinking tonight- 
We’re rinsed out when empty
And set back down to wait-
Until the next luncheon-
The next date.  

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