Do you really think that a grown woman like me needs someone like you to be “the big man of my life?” My dear, you are sorely mistaken. I was splitting the Earth to pave the road to my progression long before you spewed that smoke through your lips. I was building the pieces of myself much before you were calling yourself a man. You have no idea of the hells that I’ve traveled to get to this point. Don’t forget, this life already taught me to never trust a man.
You will always know what’s true and what’s transient. Your heart will tell you. So choose the memories you make wisely lest you’d like to indulge sadness.
Perhaps I will learn how to be better, tomorrow, than I am today.
Maybe I’ll be a little more honest about where my mind stays.
Truthfully, all that I can hope is to put out the best version out there and in my convictions, never sway.
Let the wind take you and engulf you in its feathery kiss. Let the sun extract out of you the pieces of your souls that need to evaporate. Watch the rain cool your eyes with its mist as you learn to value the earth below you. Let the earth hold you and let you take root. It is in the letting go that you are so lovingly held.
It’s doubtful that they ever knew how inside of you trickled a tiny stream of phrases promising without delivery an action that never arrived. It’s dubious that they ever imagined that the tiny rivulet would become secret floodwaters within you that one day would drown out all ideas pertaining to them as the surge broke down the wooden posts only half-blocking their phrases from the machines within your head that processed the wood into truth. Little did they all know that within you were compartmentalizations of them that became a burden too heavy to hear by the cabinets inside of you that held their weight. Shocked will they be when the contents fall to the floor and the flood eroded the wooden structure of the homes they built within you with your permission. Fortunate will you be when all that is broken is washed away leaving you with a clean slate to build your own walls.
An abstract thought of circular and staggered indicators,
A clock ticking away moments in space,
We are led in symbols of infinity with looped pathways,
Everything moves at the correct pace.
I am a woman who already knows what she wants. I can’t sit at my kitchen table waiting when I’m in a state of perpetual motion.