He called her The Office Bitch,
to her face.
Drops the comment like a hot coal
before she climbs into a taxi home
and I turn my car keys over in my hand,
heels sharp on the concrete,
the elastic in my shoulders twisting tighter
as the words sink in.
I can’t help but repeat it,
turn the words over in my mouth
the needles of the teeth still there,
as I wonder if he’d of said the same
were she a man.
Would she have had to swallow it,
if she were a man.
Because at worst he would have been
Not The Office One.
I wanted to add another stanza to this but nothing seemed to work so I’m going to sleep on it any maybe come back to this piece another day. In the meantime I’m relatively happy with how it works at the moment. I’d love to hear your feedback though.
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