Boundaries

Boundaries...boundaries..
He has no sense of boundaries.
He talks, throws his back in laughter, telling his story.
He looks at me and touches my arm.
I stop myself from recoiling. He holds my gaze momentarily, then shyly he looks away and continues to talk.  He then touches my leg, and holds my knee until i move it.

Are you confused?

Boy, my body can't prop you up. I will not give you my strength. I am not a pillar from which you can catch your breath. My walls cannot replace the backbone you obviously lack.
My skin, smooth as alabaster and warm as a sunrise does not need to be tainted by your touch. You seek to convey affection, interest. But it translates to possession, desperation, and trickles to irritation.

Do not touch me. Ever.

Learn to sit up straight; cross your legs, sit on your hands if you must. Learn to speak without needing a temple to lean on. Learn to be confident in the words you speak, without needing my validation, without seeking to disarm me; appealing to my weakness. My femininity is not weakness.
My body is not a prop.

I appeal to your senses
But I am a lion.

I've spared you.

Respect my boundaries.

The next time you stumble
Your carcass will only be good for the vultures.