She was easy to touch but hard to know.

 

Left in the dust by men who only wanted to take off her clothes. She thought it was all she was good for. Labeled a "whore" but hey that’s better than being alone, she hated herself more than she loved men, she hated herself so much that men started to hate her too.

 

She was easy because she wanted to be loved but no one seemed to love her because she was easy. It’s not her fault. She was in middle school when the sexual revolution told her, her body was all she will ever be, and now she seeks the men who don’t look at her in the eyes.

 

Always looking down at her chest.

 

She thought any good guys left would never let her in after seeing all the handprints on her skin. She didn’t have a hard life but she did have a hard time living, for just because she had it easy doesn’t mean living for her was easy. So she ran guy after guy until she was labeled easy. Now one thing she felt was easy which made it harder to live.

 

She was told as a kid it would make her feel empowered watching the pornstars on tv, but all she felt was a mess. Until one day she learned her body had a barrier protecting the beauty underneath and that no matter what the eyes looking her up and down as she clutches her purse at night walking around town, it’ll be her mind that captivates. If she only trusted people to undress her pretty little brain maybe then she wouldn’t think love was a currency.

 

Oh who you let lay under your bed sheets.