Turning Heads

So I turn heads.

Is that some grand accomplishment?


So what if 500 men 

stared at pictures of me 

and lusted after me?


You think being sexy

is a good thing.


But what if all they

ever wanted was

to touch my skin?


What if they don't care

to hear me speak,

unless it's a scream of pleasure?


My skin is soft,

but on the underside,

it's scarred beyond recognition.


It looks like someone 

held a torch to it,

and in some ways they have.


What I wouldn't give

to restore my innocence.


I wish I could remember swing sets 

amid children's laughter,

not the rusted chains

about to snap from my weight

on top of yours.


A park bench would remind me 

of a quiet summer day,

not the burning metal

against my bare behind.


All I ever desired

was a hand to hold,

a shoulder to rest my head on.


I want his arm gently around my waist,

not his fingers digging into my back

looking for buried treasure.


Does love exist for a girl like me?

A girl that makes men lick their lips

because they've heard I taste good.


Can I find a man who will look

below the surface to find a woman

that's never been intimately known

beyond the physical sense?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by: Hannah's Poem in 13 Reasons Why

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