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Every time I opened my work locker
I hoped I wouldn't find one.
Apprehensively I would turn the key
On top of my neatly folded uniform
I would find another one.
The ultimate "school boy" complement.
I hoped I wouldn't find one.
It's just you see he was two decades older
I didn't know interpret, heart sinking
I would find another one.
Tried reaching out to a manager
I hoped I'd find a sympathetic one
Advised I should be flattered
don't make a fuss or lead him on
excuses for male entitlement.
I would always find another one.
Well that went to a dark and twisty place. Today's prompt asks us to write a poem about a handmade or homemade gift. one of the suggestions was a mix-tape from an old partner and it reminded me of a discussion I had with a friend recently about being socialised into accepting shitty behaviours from men.
