Double Entendre: A Poem

They were walking her like a dog.

They didn’t know how to keep someone company.

They thought that she was in on it.

Without a single word.

They had an image of her in their minds.

Trusted it. Never interested in the truth. In her. Who she was.

And what she wanted.


You would think that she should have known.

She knew where people went to be intimate.

See, she was still a child inside after all.

Don’t you dare call her naive.

They took her for a walk, further and further away

From the crowd, alongside a deserted shore,

Across trash-lands and underneath dodgy bridges,

(that’s what they thought of her)

And you’d think that the bells started ringing, but no,

She still didn’t realise

What they expected of her

Without saying a word

Without verbalising what they had in mind

What they had settled and agreed upon

Without her consent.

It had been a done deal once she agreed to take a walk.

They were talking code and she didn’t know.

They took it as a yes to sex. With them both.

They lived in a world of porn and innuendos.


They asked her to sit down,

One on each side

Of her.

Then to lie down.

And she understood

Why she was there

Why she had been brought over

Why there were two of them staring at her,

Hands on their dicks, massaging them, mouths open

And ready, the looks on their faces already elsewhere

Amidst her flesh, within her, tearing her apart.

And she felt the pressure.

The image they nurtured of her clashing with who she was.

How they clearly preferred a lie over the truth.

How she felt worthless and already used and overruled.

Two against one, sorry.

Her compliance was a mute expectation, not verbalised consent.

Nothing had been said, nothing hinted at, nothing asked for.

The boys had arranged their plan around her silence.

Without her knowledge. She’d never say no

Because she would never be asked.

She’d be pressured into a corner,

Dicks ready to go, what’s the hold-up you prude?

You knew where this was going.

Come on, you want it.

You knew what was coming, come on, now. 

Don’t pretend that you don’t want any of this.

You could just do one of us and the other watches.

We know that you’re easy, don’t pretend now.

You already had sex with him before, it’s just one more this time.

They ran out of time, they had thought this through.

And she looked at this girl that they expected her to be,

This performance, this empty body ready, at their disposal,

Hidden away from the world, anything could happen,

Living in the shadows, oh the tales they would tell,

The studs and the tramp, she could already hear it, no,

She looked at this creation of a girl, stemming from their

Wanking-at-midnight-brains, and she thought no, absolutely not.

That wasn’t her, this was not the way that things should work.

She had not been conditioned to say no.

To resist the pressure. She had been taught to do things against her will,

To please. Especially boys, especially men with an erect penis,

Since she had been a child. Since they had asked too much of her,

Without saying a single word. Their body against hers.

Their holding something against her,

Against her being empty-handed.

Caught off-guard.

Did she do what she had to do?

And what was that? Now that they were all hard.

Something just had to be done.

It would be a waste. What a tease. 

Gaslighting. Guilt-tripping.

What are you waiting for?

It won’t take long.

Come on, just in and out. You’ll see.

You’ll have fun.

Don’t tell us you didn’t fantasise about this.

monochrome photo of woman
Photo by Sam Pineda on


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