When I was seventeen,
I was defined by the whispers
That echoed between my thighs—
They wondered how I squeezed 60
Pounds extra into a stitched corset
Of my New skin.
It can be defined as the unashamed
Stares at my fist-thick waste—
Their eyes suffocated my stomach,
And my appetite was nauseated.
It can be defined as the unsatisfactory
Taste of food pureed by my mouth, because
Nothing compared to my hunger
For their eyes binging on my body.
Their lips never touched mine,
Yet my venom dripped from their
Tongues— I was a bottom-shelf delicacy
For the underage Royalty.
With beauty comes power, and
With power comes manipulation,
But I knew the edge of my leather would
Yet, the halls would still clench
To the click of my boots—
This is why
A queen smiles as her kingdom falls.