For our shortcomings and weakness.
For perverted thinking and mental regress.
Blaming miniskirts and cleavage,
Her innuendo for my carnage.
Sure I bit the apple, but didn't' Eve bite it first?
She made me.
Ripe bosom spilling from ironed denim.
My mind in tantra, her form feminine.
My fingers, her curves.
She flirted, denied me...the nerve.
To take back a subtle promise,
Made not with rouge lips,
but the promiscuity in her hips.
Her error, not mine.
She bit, I was blind.
Incapable of controlling impulse
So she should pay the recourse.
Cover up, don't look to sexy.
Wear less makeup, don't be bitchy.
I brag about my muscle,
But how strong are you really if you take without asking?
Because you couldn't help it?
It was right because you felt it?
Being strong's not making fists and having scars.
It's showing tenderness.
Looking onward with compassion,
Covering others and owning your actions.
Heeding the "no's" and fashioning safety.
Admitting you bit the apple from your own hunger,
and the allure of it looking tasty.