In the early morning I wake to
The sound of my front door closing,
My mouth twists and I stare at
The swaying leaves of the tree
Outside my window where
The birds are already singing.

Birdsong sounds so sweet
To human ears but this morning
I wonder if it really is all that sweet,
Wonder what humans voices
Sound like to them, if they even listen,
But surely, nothing as crass as
“I want you to be a good little slut for me”
Could sound all that musical to them, right?

It was kind of hot last night, now I’m not so sure,
They say men are needier than women,
But, even if I prefer they didn’t talk at all,
That close to an orgasm it doesn’t really matter
What they say, so long as the job gets done.

It’s weird, though, because its an accepted truth
– at least in my life – that men learn young how
To say what they have to just to see you naked,
They’ll tell you they love you just to touch your breasts,
And promise to marry you so you’ll touch their cock.

And all it’s lies mounted on top of lies,
That we don’t really even expect to be true,
Yet saccharine lies and degrading compliments
Seem to be the mating call of our generation,
So really, I wonder if birdsong is just one bird
Telling them another that their wings are really sexy.

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