Streets

She walks down the street

Amidst glares and whistles.

"Hey Beautiful!"

"God bless you!"

"Think I'm too ugly for you, huh?"

Footsteps, behind her..

Growing closer

They near her right side..

"Hey" pipes the owner of those footsteps

"Give me your number."

Fear wells in her

Should she run away,

Call for help, scream?

No, she walks on.

He still walks beside her

"Hey, I'm talking to you".

Suppressing the fear inside

She walks stonefaced.

Two minutes..

Four minutes....

Ten minutes

And he hasn't left.

"What a butt, bitch"

Screams an old vagabond from behind her.

What was she to them?

A mannequin, a prostitute?

A public spectacle?

A hundred catcalls have come her way.

She still walks down the street everyday.

(I am ​Meryl, a writer and a literature student.​ Writing has been my first love and my passion. I started out with writing poetry in my Middle School years and went on to publish articles in The Times Of India. Right now, I am an avid blogger, interviewer, poet and a passionate promoter of amateur writers like me. I have started a Facebook ​Group called 'Writers' Association' to facilitate the same.)