Forgotten

I am on that list of forgotten girls.

Not even important enough to

Grace the back of expired milk cartons

And interstate billboards

Because I no longer matter and

You don’t care, that I will forever be

Hidden underneath the

Stack of

Dirty magazines

 And used condom wrappers,

The game you use is not a trapper

Because these eyes cut through your lies

And you don’t want anyone else to know

Your dirty little secret.

The list that is marked “Do Not Touch,”

Because

My ample flesh is not meant to be clutched

The one girl that you couldn’t use as your sexual crutch

You want to dump your frustrations on me

Something easy to lean on when the pain of

Being lonely becomes too heavy,

Then push me off to the side

You want to drench me in the cum stains

Of your promiscuity

So that I may become yet another favored follower

To your freak induced fever

Social networking through old bed springs and

Cheap sheets

A list of those girls who will never be that girl.

Not offering herself up as a gift, 

But more like a constellation prize.

“You didn’t win me over, but at least you tried and

The sanity of my body is something I’ll gladly compromise”

Because she will surely die if she doesn’t

Have someone to hold tonight

Addicted to companionship for

It is a means of acceptance

And unlike me, she is weak

Unable to discern when she is being used

Becoming as worthless as a dollar bill

Oh If your lines could kill,

But they do

My need for intellectual stimulation

Falls to rejection, and is swept under the radar.

It’s so easy to call me high maintenance

When your standards are so low

We whose efforts are forgotten, remain untouchable.

Hidden underneath the stack of dirty

Magazines and tucked between used condom wrappers.

The list marked “Do Not Touch.”