School Girl

I used to tease my girlfriend about how I would dress up like a naughty catholic on her birthday,
Apparently she was born 365 times and always comes out begging for more tantalizing text messages, more skin, more everything
I used to find enjoyment inside her cyber kisses and electronic love,
Apparently I wear plaid skirt jumpsuits and always come out feeling like her personal sex slave
I used to think that sex equals love
Apparently someone rewrote the equation without changing the romance textbooks and always coming out with love equaling sex
I used to believe she loved me
Apparently she just has a fetish for a girl in a uniform and always comes out on top of the class
Now I dread the moment winky faces taint my screen,
Tired of constantly washing red ties of bondage shame, never getting the stains of desperation out
Now I dread her handcuffs hooked to imaginary bed posts
Tired of constantly being chained to cyber sex chambers, never getting the romances of Hallmark cards
You ask me why I do this to myself
Why a feminist would be treated like a stranger’s favorite sex toy
Why a firecracker would be dimmed like a liar’s desk lamp
Why your darling would be broken like she was nothing
To tell you the truth,
It’s not the handcuffs’ fault that guilt locks them to thin wrists
It’s not the winky faces’ fault that disappointed eyes leave 3rd degree burns
It’s not the heart’s fault that psychotic lust killed it coldly
It’s not the textbooks’ fault that clever sharpies manipulated them
Finally,
It’s not your fault that I dress for catholic punishment
It’s not your fault that I kiss through iPhone cameras
It’s not your fault that I study the wrong equations
It’s not your fault that I lost her love
It’s not your fault that I make love on keyboards
It’s not your fault that I refuse to make you feel his jealousy
It’s not your fault that I shake under the heartwrenching fears
It’s not your fault that I sacrifice myself for you
What did you expect?
I’m a catholic schoolgirl following the example of the man I was told to praise
I used to separate myself from iron hands and bleeding nails
Apparently, we’re not so different