“Sometimes I'm torn about eyes
because there are times when I'm
riding the bus
walking to class
shopping with my mom,
when I look up to find
eyes on my body,
hungry stare, sometimes someone
my age and sometimes
not, a stare that turns me
into a meal.
And sometimes I like the way it feels
like someone has lit a torch
in my stomach in the deepest night
and all the moths come seeking.
Is it possible
to like something sometimes
and hate it other times?
Am I allowed
to decide when
I want to be
a feast?”
―
Olivia A. Cole,
Dear Medusa