Can I hear her? PG 18

Can I hear her? PG 18 - student project

Her

 

A tube, to the dull hull. A voice only heard in shouts, left rasping day to day.

A strong hold on my perverted obsession.  Breath dances around the constriction.

To be choked by a lover, highlights a point of trust. I celebrate to know my limits can be heard.  Respect outweighs power, what paramount virtue I ask. Don’t kill me if you want the chance. The want for air, resonates complete.

Complete is the torture of pleasure learned since youth.  

Do not enjoy, their voices ring.

Hold back, sit down, slow down, read aloud, don’t shout. 

Don’t speak out of line, wait your turn, don’t be so cheeky.

You’re weird. Everyone wants to marry a lady.

If my voice drew a smile, pride or harmony as it did when I was younger then I would not stand defending myself, unheard.  Age, status or gender are not on my side, I can not say aloud. I will not be broken, I will listen to your endless tripe with compassion, I know your side.  I will listen for my ears are free despite the rock you have placed in my throat.

With eyes to heaven, you can’t see who is singing for you and surely not why. 

Go for the neck.

I look to the floor when your eyes join the room from the back of your head.  If I can manage to keep my head high then they’ll meet yours but to protect my throat from the bite of rats, we continue this cranial weighing scale.

On and on, I wonder what power my voice may hold.  Straining to be heard, for practise as the weight of earth constricts my breath in that dark grave. 

I will ask those to hold my neck.  What an invitation. Take hold of my throat. Why should you feel frightened, mother, it could be gentle. No tender holds have we exchanged.

Behind doors, my neck is coveted fruit. In public, it claims no such virtuous status.  My neck can only be touched by those who hear my voice.

Hanging from a trapeze or a rope, it and my gaze are the fruit in the trap. No confidence is too elusive. Confidence sexualised, now we’ve fucked it.  Easier to understand with the conceptual sauce of seduction.

A scarf for a lady, a choker for a tramp, a bland poloneck for power.

How about a speech, not sexy or arrogant.  

A speech with a voice, rings like a song of who she is, who they are.