/not your love song/ (philo viveró)

i know you want to hear it
i've heard you sing it under your breath
this is not your love song
it belongs to them: the girls regarding the mirrors.

i shan't hold up the sick illusions for you
i know you've lain naked on top of the sheets
i've heard you whimper in the mornings
with his abuse still dripping out of you

and i've seen your bleeding eyes
as you lie far from the mirror
when i touch it to your nipple
it reaches out with longing
when i hold it to your face and you shy away
i know you see yourself through a veil of sick illusions

you've never been comfortable with your body
you've mistreated it because the people told you to
now you're paying the price for succumbing to them
as if rising up was a choice in taut dreams like 1990
but your sisters are looking in their mirrors
not at masques and mascara but at their fiery eyes

i know you want to hear it
i’ve heard you sing it under your breath
this is not your love song
it belongs to them: the girls regarding the mirrors.

out there somewhere, they're honest
a new breed of believers
who’ve left the lovesongs behind
women wiping tears from their eyes
listening to the tales of the stars
going into those realms
the men tried to hobble them from in the past
women today should be too strong
for the men of yesterday...

hopefully they don't want to hear it
or sing its vile words under their breath
this is not your love song
it belongs to them: the girls regarding the mirrors