salacious stalking, shouts, honks, whistles,

and presumptuous physical contact,

make up the psychologically stinging soundtrack of our day to day.

our panicked hearts beat in time to assaulting memories:

his spit laced with entitlement,

the forays into faux friendships.

we brace ourselves,

balancing the burden of our right to be unbothered,

with the potential of pain

if our No is shattered by a bullet from his misogynistic chamber.

he’ll claim self defense for his ego,

damaged by our lack of consent.

victimized for having a voice,

another kindred soul is anthologized

among vast volumes of us.