built like a brick house: by anonymous

Check out this beautifully-written poem!

built like a brick house

i walk around with my head skewed on the passing classrooms

trying to make it around without bumping into people

meanwhile, i feel eyes on me

i notice the whispers as you all walk by

the sustained stares when i pass you

i hear you chuckle with your friends

i know what you say.

i drop something while walking to class 

all of a sudden i have an audience behind me

a wall of adolescent boys trying to admire something they can’t have

i don’t know their names

they don’t speak to me

or say hello

or acknowledge anything else besides 

the flare pants i have on

i know what they say.

i stand up to present my project in front of the class

as i walk by my peers,

i notice every guy’s head turn when i walk past them

desperately trying to get a peek at something

i start to become more aware of the way my hips 

sway 

with every step i take

i stand next to my slideshow

talking about the Flavian Woman

while the girls nod in agreement and understanding

paying attention to 

my facts

the boys nod and sway

tilting their heads and neglecting the

words

coming out of my mouth

but instead paying attention to 

my figure

as their gaze goes further down my body

i know what they’re thinking.

i sit and talk to him about my day

tell him about all the good things that happened to me

we laugh and we smile but

his friends come over to say hello

they don’t speak to me

they whisper something in his ear

and i watch him smile and shoo them away

but then i notice suddenly he’s not looking at me

but at my white v-cut shirt 

i know what they said.

she sits and talks to me about her day

telling me about all the good things that happened to her

we laugh and we smile and

my friends come over to say hello

they don’t speak to her

they whisper something in my ear

i try not to let my disgust show and shoo them away

but then i notice suddenly i’m not looking at her

but at her white v-cut shirt 

i stop listening to what she’s telling me,

admiring who she is,

and focus on

how she looks in her outfit

how the outline of her bra pushes through her shirt

how my eyes are now set on a different pair

the bouncing motion of her left leg catches my attention

i look up at her face

now red with embarrassment

her eyes brimmed with tears

and she gets up to leave

i realize that i let them shift the way i look at her

i hate what they say about her.

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