My breasts were never made for you to play around with
They are mine to squeeze and judge whether the shape or color was worthy in front of a mirror
I’m the only one who twists and twirls the nipples of a hateful creature
I envy your arousal when you see me bare
I never reach the peak that you seek from my own chest
Dip your fingers in to feel my chest
Rip them off I don’t need them to dress
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Author:
Nerd (
Offline) - Published: August 5th, 2026 02:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 70
- Users favorite of this poem: Syd, Paul Bell, Fränz Müller, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments9
When one is objectified and defined by one's external features one becomes nothing more that a pound of flesh in a butcher shop. Well written
I'll be honest here...it was the title that drew me in, but I'm glad it did.
A clever poem.
- Syd 🍄
We all hate something about ourselves.
Guys like breasts, girls probably put up with them.
Very well said! Great poem!
Thank you all for taking your time reading my poem.
I hope you all have a wonderful day.
You got the boys exited with this one nerd
Enjoying your poetry
This inspired me to make more :3
My friend, “I envy your arousal when you see me bare” is the line that stayed with me. It captures such a painful divide between how one person is seen and how one sees oneself. That tension echoes through the entire piece. Beautifully done. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
There’s a fierce, unsettling defiance here—your body claimed as your own, not something to be consumed or understood by someone else. It pushes into discomfort on purpose, turning vulnerability into something jagged and confrontational.
Thank you for understanding
And I appreciate your comment
That is a very powerful statement and hope the message reaches whoever it was intended for 😱
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