Renaissance
In quiet corners of my mind, the good girl dances with the whore, her voice dangerously honeyed, a devious smile spreading across her lips. She contains multitudes of delicious desires and she is done performing innocence, done justifying her space, done apologizing for needing to come. You want her polished. Contained. She wants to be feral. Euphoric. She wants to fuck you until the good girl is dead. Until only the erotic underneath remains— the one she's kept hidden, the one she's been feeding in the dark, the one who fucks herself, fingers buried inside, dripping, insatiable.
You want her to whisper. She wants you inside her, a sacred wound. She wants to be used and thoroughly ravaged, to be demanded to fuck you harder, breasts heaving under your hands, throat raw from your cock, destroyed and remade in her own image. She wants to scream your name into the pillow while you're fucking her from behind, ass grinding against her, her cunt clenching around you, drawing you deeper, milking you into the abyss. She is all these craving parts— the wetness, the hunger, the way she swells and glistens when you touch her, a goddess in her own hands, slick with divinity. She is too much and not enough— a contradiction they never taught her to own. The whore inside her knows she is divine. Lust is not sin—it is devotion, Craving you is not her weakness— it transmutes her power. So yes. Use her. Degrade her. Fuck her in the liminal spaces between who they told you she should be, and who she refuses to stop becoming, until you taste the renaissance on her skin, until she tastes her essence on yours. She is a woman learning that her own body is an act of rebellion, a revolution, a reckoning.
Author’s Note
I wrote “Renaissance” as a poem about honoring the reclamation of sexual identity and power. And it’s really about confronting that split between socially acceptable femininity and suppressed desire.
So the good girl and the whore? They aren’t two different people. No. They are each important parts of the same woman. The poem plays within that tension between how she is supposed to behave (polished, restrained, apologetic) and what she is actually feeling (hungry, assertive, embodied). That internal clash becomes almost a transformation in which the good-girl persona is torn down.
There are lines in there, “done performing innocence,” and “done apologizing.” Those are about how exhausting it is. All those expectations around purity and politeness and always denying yourself. And I’m not saying desire needs to be hidden or justified either. There’s also a critique in there, about how women are expected to just be passive, to stay contained in sexual situations.
The explicit imagery is there to flip things. To make sex feel active. Chosen. Even sacred. I use phrases like “a goddess in her own hands” and “lust is not sin, it is devotion” to shift away from fucking into something empowering, something self-definable. Even in language that sounds submissive, like “use her” or “degrade her,” that gets reclaimed as consensual and controlled. That’s all part of her agency. She hasn’t lost anything.
By the end of the poem, I move into a deeper sense of identity. That whore persona becomes this powerful symbol of freedom. She’s confidently owning her body, her desires, all her complications. And the closing lines make it both personal and political. Her body becomes an act of rebellion. Meaning that embracing your desires is actually a form of resistance. A way to fight back against all those restrictive norms.
Did any of these lines resonate with you? Please feel free to share your thoughts. Your likes, comments, and shares genuinely make my day brighter!
The liberation of standing and facing this deep beauty inside most have been conditioned to hide wrapped in shame..no more I say I claimed her once more from those shores she once walked wild and free…I am she & the desire and fire that burns ever brighter..
Beautiful passion Sapphra. The good girl and the whore... YES! Let them mix together to become a whole. Let's embrace ourselves for who we really are.