she lies
laid open, pantyhose
scrunched to her thighs

bare legs staring, almost rude
(rouged cheeks and lips,
smeared skin's always in
that mood--

no stranger here to calloused
moans, but locked exposed
she can't be
known)

rebellion through a full
embrace, no pepper spray
just guns and
lace

ribbons twined up through
her hair.
impaled in daggers,
always bare

no contradiction:
girls and sex
she never waits,
she's always next