Literally - #Inktober day 22

Literally

I literally can't.

This isn't hyperbole.

Not some silly way of saying I don't want to, 

But you're asking for something I literally can't do.

It's not figurative, 

The way I can't tolerate you.

I literally can't begin to understand, 

That think piece on how you just want to hold hands.

It's something I can't get my head around, 

That you can't see your voice is irrelevant right now.

I can't even comprehend, 

That I could be in the wrong now, 

For standing up for myself,

For how long I've kept my voice down.

I'm figuratively sorry for you, 

Sarcastically, regretfully, insincerely feeling bad, 

That a tiny amount of the privilege you've had, 

That right you're entitled to, 

To smirk and wink and flirt, 

Could be taken away,

So we can get to work.

Really, it's tragic,

That you can't work your magic,

But I literally, 

Really, 

So truly, 

Can't understand,

What gives you the right to touch my hand.

Todays #Inktober poem. In response to men who worry about their right to workplace flirting in the wake of Harvey Weinstein.