A blue, button-up dress; short, yes
Winged eyeliner good enough to take flight
A fresh undercut
A dazzling smile
I look dressed up, but not for a date
Not for anyone except my own darn self.
A quiet bookstore.
An old acquaintance
A quick hello, from me to them
A quick hello back and then
A look –
A swift exit
A stroll down the street
I see a nice older woman and I
Offer a smile, but before it is returned
A look –
An unsavoury opinion?
A disapproving glare?
The resounding question on my mind is
What has changed?
What is different
For you to think you have the right
To look at me like you know some dirty little secret
Like my makeup and my outfit
Somehow means something about who I am inside?
And so that is the story of how
Even though I left the house looking great
My looking great was the exact reason
For the undeserved
For the stupid, unfair way
That you looked at me
And made me feel like nothing.