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Paula Gallego Poem
I’m a fake feminist.
I take pleasure in the thought of submission, in the image of me
bent over a table and ed,
ravaged out of my mind,
reduced to tears and whimpers.
I don’t enjoy it, I don’t get sexual gratification from it,
but a deep satisfaction that screams
“it’s okay, this is normal”.
I cry afterwards, of course,
or even during these fantasising moments of my days.
My mind plunges
into a deep pool of masochistic imagery,
bordering on troubling,
taboo scenes that I can’t share,
not even with my own self, never.
My sex gets aroused while I feel nothing,
not a single nervous ending, not even a run of my fingers on my skin.
I am numb.
My mind is numb.
Even when I come, I can’t make myself utter a noise.
Then my eyes burn, my nose itches.
Don’t cry,
I think to myself, don’t cry again,
this is supposed to feel good,
and then the ugly sobs come.
Big, disturbing wails of help
(who am I asking for?) fill my room.
I feel disgust, I retch.
Almost like a performance
I stop immediately,
the physical numbness spreads to my brain like an anaesthetic,
my mind suffers from an amnesia episode and
my body moves on its own to the bathroom.
I seek men,
women,
anyone
who will have me.
I entice them, lead them on.
I want to be dominated, used and discarded.
I want to be an equal, loved and held.
I am a fake feminist,
I fantasise with being raped, pillaged,
taken, broken apart
and left to freeze under the night sky.
I am a fake feminist,
and a child,
and a woman,
and a man,
and nothing all at once.
I want to make sense of everything, I want to remember nothing.
I am a fake feminist,
and if my innocence had not been trumped and torn to pieces,
if I had been loved and not hated,
caressed and not abused,
I would be a real one.
Copyright © Paula Gallego | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Paula Gallego Poem
I’ve been a man and I’ve been a woman,
and nothing in between;
I’ve liked men, loved women
and hated everyone around me;
I’ve been a model student and a failure;
A daughter and a painful,
painful reminder of youth slipping away.
I’ve been big, defensive and dangerous,
I’ve been small, submissive and scared;
I held you in my hands and I watched as you fell.
I was thin when you met me, even though I didn’t realise;
I always saw myself as a storm cloud, rumbling and dark,
ready to shoot arrows, not aiming to hurt anyone,
and engulfing the trees with my wrath.
I’ve been yours, and theirs, and his and hers;
I’ve been the rock at the shore waiting for the waves to break;
I’ve been everywhere, and nowhere, and where?
Where can I find a place where I can finally be myself?
Copyright © Paula Gallego | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Paula Gallego Poem
I remember when my feet were smaller,
When my hair was longer,
When my dreams were bigger,
My smile brighter.
I remember when days did not start at Midnight,
When life didn’t feel like a big trap
Trapping me in a small cage,
Caging my innocence away.
I remember long summer days
When i thought love would save me,
When my thoughts were thoughts
And not gunshots,
When my hopelessness killed itself.
But it was replaced by sorrow and mourning and regret,
It was replaced by self loathing and double guessing and feeling insane;
‘Feeling like this would have gotten me lobotomised in the 50s’ I joke,
But then again an empty brain does not sound like a bad idea.
I remember picking chestnuts with my grandpa -it’s all dust now-
And feeling like myself for the first time,
And I remember having that taken away;
And I remember the laughter and the conversations,
And the tenderness,
And the screams and the bruises -I fell during P.E, mom-.
And I remember seeing the end, forever 15.
I don’t -I didn’t- remember many things
Back then,
Memories hit like a train wreck one day;
Flooding and drowning
And lighting that
First cigarette, first kiss,
Always cried afterwards, always apologetic;
The machines were so scary, they checked my brain.
‘Feeling like this would have gotten me lobotomised in the 50s’
They don’t want you to remember.
Copyright © Paula Gallego | Year Posted 2026
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