I only read about unicorns in fairy tales and tumblr posts. Mystical creatures once hunted for their healing horns. Julius Caesar believed that once made into a cup, it could protect a person from poison cleverly snuck into their drink.
I never thought that I’d see one in real life until I looked in the mirror and stared at my reflection. The moment they find out my secret, suddenly I am far too beautiful to be let go of. I have just enough of a glow to capture their attention, through the throngs of people. I am mystical. Precious.
They stare at my mouth, breasts, touch my thighs as they ask whether or not I’m into them. How am I to lie about a part of myself? Who am I to deny myself me? I nod yes, remaining quiet. They continue to do all the talking as though they are reading my every thought and I don’t have a word to say.
I want to stop them, mid sentence and remind them at I am not just a creature here to please them simply because we enjoy the same things and people. They cannot harvest my horn for their own greedy intentions. I do not protect them against the poisons flowing through their blood stream.