She isn't the type of girl who shows a lot of skin....

Written from the prompt in the subject line. Alos influenced by the music at: which was playing as I wrote it.


She isn't the type of girl who shows a lot of skin but the music got under her skin. When it pulsed she pulsed. When it beat, she beat. It rocked her body, it rocked her soul, it set her brain on fire and her skin followed.

She danced, closed her eyes and went where the music took her. It often took her places she would have never desired to go otherwise.

And it often took her out of her shirt.

It didn’t matter if she was at a rave or in a club surrounded by strobe lights and glow in the dark jewelry or if she was at home alone, dancing in her kitchen while supper cooked in the over.

Something about the music demanded that her skin be bare while it played. Perhaps better to find her pores and leach itself into her. Perhaps to let its vibration, its throb, caress her.

Bare skin made seduction easier.

She was never embarrassed afterwards. Never apologetic. She never made excuses, never said, “The music made me do it.” When the pulse and the beat let her free again she merely found her top and covered herself again.

She isn’t the type of girl who shows a lot of skin, but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

Poem (from prompt)

The poundy, angry woman is alive inside
I want to *remove* her so that I might rest.
She struggles against the *inequality*
being less than the rest of the world
And the hatred, the anger the stupidity
its all around and its *poisoning* the tiny peace she has
So inside she rants and she roils,
the blood in her veins boils
And in loud yet silent words she cries out
*describing* all the agony we together have endured.
I cry, hot salty tear for her,
she is *obsolete* , this pounding angry woman
in me.


The prompt was to use all of the highlighted words in one piece.