Girlfriend Material

When did you become so entitled?


To pick and choose if a girl is good enough for you.

You’d be lucky to have a girl like me or any of us girls you put in the same category.

What if we don’t want to be qualified as ‘worthy’?

We just want a right to be,

With the eyes of a small mind judgment free.


Drop your misconceptions,

The conditioned lessons.

If you gave things a chance,

Opened your mind and shut your eyes

To how you think we should see,

You might be surprised by fate and her company.


I’m not made from material, girlfriend or wife.

Not made for a category, labelled: not right.

How would you feel if you stood in her light?

It’s not much to respect a woman's equal right.


We’re not another kind of species,

Just humans with different features.

But you take it upon yourself to act the local preacher,

Making generalised statements for a woman to engrave,

Rating compatibility on the way a girl should behave.


But patients is a virtue not made for some,

Should she be branded for a human condition?

Can’t you look past a premature night?

Remove the disgust that ties your mind,

To the reasons why she would never be right.


'Girls just wanna have fun' didn't you hear

But without the fear,

Of her name disrespected.

Why is it so different for you, you’re so invested

On frowning down at the same species,

Just with different features.


When did you become so entitled?


Did we gradually lose the respect or did we forget to plant its seeds?

Addicted to the spitting words with which we tease,

We wilt away, quietly, with each growing weed. 


Holding on to a blink of promise

Within scattered pangs of fondness,

We keep trying as if we’ve given up too soon.


Returning, again, as if our minds have airbrushed the bruises in ‘us’.

Spaces of time sweeten a smile,

murmured offence left waiting hostile.


As deep as our impressions, cut earliest,

We have thinly scratched surfaces.

I’ve stopped asking

And you don’t listen,

Still we wonder why there are pieces missing. 


The voicing ‘we’ is thrown around, as if we are deaf to its company

of hollow hope and fractured promises,

as if we are more than a blank page.


Returning, again, we seek shelter,  

Safe here from emotion. 

Procrastinating with convenience,

We ride time in unspoken agreement.


Ambling in ‘Us’


Kitty Montague

5 AM Therapy

It’s 5 am, Sunday.

3 hours from the part drunk that I used to be.

Woken up by another stint of fear and anxiety

That followed me home with the boy lurking silently.


I try to fathom motives hidden

I’m bed bound, bedridden.

Paralysed by overwhelming thoughts normally forbidden,

My mind is confined to the walls of his prison.


Trying to realign my confidence,

Doubting the state of my competence.

Out loud I slowly lose the privilege of common sense,

Trying to convince myself with compliments.


The feeling of disgust sitting rigid in my body.

Degraded by your eyes, your mind and now physically.

Left with the pictures imprinted on my memory,

When you TRIED to steal ownership of the ‘object’ you saw sensory.


Kitty Montague

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