pretty

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i think i may be tired

of pretty

pretty pays me in

unsolicited stares

and inappropriate touches

it blesses me with

abundance

in the way of the giving tree

and i grow weary

of everyone wanting an apple

or a branch

or a seed

pretty forces me

to question every glance

every question

every gesture

preferring to be

uncomfortably wrong

than unprepared

pretty takes

and tastes

and touches

and expects to be rewarded

for something over which

i have no control

pretty bores me

it thinks nothing of my

mind

nor heart

behaving as if the whole of me

rests behind my back

above my chin

and between my thighs

pretty is wasteful

yet gluttonous

as if i’m wonka’s factory

and all the world is

augustus gloop

pretty is a

“privilege”

but what do i gain

from objectification

and shallow admiration