BY MAKAYLA JENNINGS
The city street is their territory And we are their prey.
I used to not mind it so much. Their stares. And their piercing howls. In fact I thought it was a compliment.
Walking through the undergrowth As they bared their teeth And pursed their lips To whistle at me.
A call of mating and admiration. Wolves howled at the moon to praise it’s beauty Right? So how could I be dismissive of such call? I was their moon.
I wanted to be their moon-
But it didn’t take me long To realize that they weren’t fawning over my dedicated fur Or comparing me to the beauty of the moon But rather my flesh…
My meat.
And well – that made all the difference.
Predators on the street I used to adore With their smoldering eyes and moist lips That praised me for my long legs And curving back. Wanting to know where I was going. And if I would smile.
Foolish little me, I thought they asked me to smile to see if I had fangs too.
But now… Predators on the street look starving Ribs poking through a fur of gruesomeness. Bloodshot eyes and dry bleeding lips Growling at my body Foaming in anger as I refuse to answer them.
It took all too long for me to realize that it wasn’t curiosity they sought. But meat That’s all they wanted. All they saw me as. I was just a flesh of meat. Something they could just find and feast.
Barely a human Not even a person-
Prey I was then And prey I may still be But I’ve got fangs now And they’re far sharper than their teeth.