Maybe I am not Pleasant: I am The Wolf Only Barely Contain

Have you considered that maybe I am not pleasant?

maybe I wear lipstick so that
you will see my pretty pink mouth
wrapping around a coffee cup lid
and be distracted enough not to notice
that I am intelligent and powerful;
a threat.

maybe I draw my brows into high arches
so you will look at my unimpressed skepticism
and overlook my spiteful glare
as a trick of my silly, girlish routine.

maybe I wear my heels so high and thin
so that I grasp your attention with the sway of my hips
as I listen to the click-clack-click against the floor
and know that if you should try to overpower me
I walk on sharpened knives.

maybe when I laugh at your worthless jokes
I am really baring my fangs
waiting patiently for the day
that I sink them into your neck.

I am not made of porcelain pleasantries;
you will find that these things are my armor
to keep you at a distance
so you do not step on me and shatter
my fragile control.

I am not a husk — I am not wilting.
I am turning my head
so that the fire blazing through my eyes
does not catch on the accelerant of your sweaty palms
and burn your bones to dust.

I am not your pretty girl;
I am a fury, a faerie, a phoenix —
a forest of werewolves and wendigos
that will carve out your chest
so that the next time I paint my pretty pink lips
I will taste the copper tang of your dying breaths.


- R.K., I Am The Wolf Only Barely Contain

This is definitely my new favorite poem. Women aren't just pretty, there's fire in my eyes.