They say I’m beautiful when I’m quiet.
When my knees are obedient, and my words fall silent.
They love the curve of my hip but not the edge of my thought.
They kiss my lips, only to keep them shut.

Yes, I know what they want.
Open legs, closed mind.
A mouth that moans but never questions.
A body that bends, not a will that resists.
They dress it up as love—but it’s conquest in costume.

Do you know what it means to be desired but never heard?
To be looked at like a painting: admired, owned, never asked what it means?
They liked my smile—called it their favorite feature.
Of course they did.
My smile never interrupted.

But this mouth was not made to be ornamental.
And these lips?
Capable of more than kissing.
They speak. They scream. They question.
They remember.

So listen closely.
This is the part where I stop performing.
Where I unwrap myself from the ribbons of your expectations.
Where I reclaim my voice, my fury, my fire.

Beware the woman who finds herself whole.
She doesn’t whisper warnings—
She writes them in flames. 🔥❤️

©️ Beatriz Esmer