$300 Cologne

He likes 300 dollar cologne

And he likes to leave you alone

After he claims your body as his own,

You were stupid.

He wakes up and he's feeling himself,

Because you were not enough,

And he looks the way he does,

So why shouldn't he?

He wakes up and he stares upon his shelf,

Perusing the options he's been dealt,

No concern for what you felt,

He has many.

You yearn to be displayed there,

Next to his 300 dollar cologne.

But you are not priceless

He studies the colours of the liquids

The quality of the glass

And the shape of your ass,

I mean bottle.

He ejaculates his liquids,

Onto the quality of your body,

And studies the shape of your ass,

You could bottle his aroma.

He likes 300 dollar cologne

And would rather smell like that,

Than your worthless goodies,

He is boujee

He is not frugal

You want to bottle up his scent

To forget your will has been bent

Into a compromising consent

You want him to hold you.

He wants something he can bottle up

Tuck away and use for a quick fuck,

Leave you feeling moonstruck,

This is romance.

But he likes 300 dollar cologne,

And he likes putting it on alone

To hide his toxic testosterone.

The perspiration of his actions not condoned.

His realizations postponed,

For punishments he is not ready to atone

Your time spent on his bed will land you under it.

He will shove you in a shoe box that is most likely mislabeled.

To keep his reputation of posh taste stable.

He will turn you into a childhood fable.

He doesn't know you'll turn the tables.

He doesn't know that you are able.

He likes 300 dollar cologne,

But he doesn't know he will end up alone,

Or that you will take back your dignity as your own.

You are not stupid.