You can always tell

 

The he and she are equally highlighted.

My comments, equally divided.

I am toeing the fine line into confusion.

What the hell am I but an illusion?

Some say my pussy is designer?

Some say it’s homemade and I am lying.

I will give my compliments to my mother.

It was her recipe but why bother?

Stare some more at my chest while you’re at it.

Maybe the answer is there, but I doubt it.

You’re in my pants like we know each other well.

While reminding me that you can always tell.

I wonder who of us is the harasser.

Who without consent is the one who asks her,

Him and them about their genitals?

Only one of us is making this thing sexual.