Insurance Claim

Seldom
does she ask for favors
but when she does,
it is backed by an insurance called:
“If you can’t, don’t worry
I got it,”
and she does.

Understand, sacred texts
refer to her as “help meet,”
male egos transpose her flesh
into just meat,
but her womanhood
can’t subscribe to either.

Her ether,
is in the realm of leaders,
warriors,
and achievers.
Therefore, she has no time
for dreamers,
bickerers,
nor deceivers.

She’s constructed herself
with adamantine belief
you mistake for being
prudish,
stubborn and hard-nosed.
Truth is,
she’s heard enough of Judas,
seen enough of Brutus
to not superimpose
her own brutish
into her being,
savage into her seams.

She,
has hard-boiled eyes
that has never cracked
over the yoke she has borne
through the years,
so what makes you think
any part of you
is worth her tears?

Truth is,
she’s blueprint
for incompliant,
has a hard time being pliant
to your feeble frame of mind
so she can’t picture
being in need of you.

So if you can’t fathom
a woman composed
of less damsel than damnation,
less heaven than hell;
if you can’t imagine
a woman so whole,
holy becomes an understatement,
a religion you can’t sell;
if you can’t compute
a woman with enough
assurance in herself
that she doesn’t need to
buy your validation;
if you can’t,
don’t worry.
She’s got it.

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It’s Okay

You could hear it in her voice. 
Love,  
could still be detected 
in the undertones but
her tired
was seeping through her syllables,
her weary
leaking through her vowels.  

Drip.  
Drip.  
Dripping through the ceiling
of her patience, 
collecting
in a bucket brimming
with reasons to give up; 
she  
was a drop away from spill,
a touch away from splatter. 

Normally, 
she could summon enough magic
to levitate her smile 
above the skyscrapers of her burdens. 
Normally, 
she had a scripture 
tucked under her breath
to whisper consolation. 

Normally, 
she could pretend 
that spreading herself thin and
running on the exhaust 
of yesterday’s hope that today 
would be better, 
was enough pep
to get her through. 
Normally, 
she had more faith
at the end of her day
than day
at the end of her faith. 

Normally, 
she didn’t wish
to be normal. 
She accepted that life
was carving out her precious
to make room for everyone’s hurt
but hers it seemed. 
She understood
she was given a mountain
to show others it could be climbed, 
but some days
she doesn’t feel like climbing. 

Somedays
she doesn’t feel like hero. 
Somedays
she doesn’t want to be nominated
to be the emblem of strength. 
Somedays, 
she just needs
a moment to cry, 
just needs
a moment to breathe,
just needs
a moment to wallow 
in her vulnerabilities. 

Just give her a moment
to be human.

Please.

Doomed to Fail (aka DTF)

She said,
her optimism is dying daily.

Fading fast 
in the hands of men 
who love to touch 
but never buy, 
show interest 
solely to shy 
away from commitment, 
leave her questioning
if the price tag of her morals 
are indeed too steep.

How long 
will they attempt to convince her 
that her worth should be on clearance,
her dignity 
on layaway,
her mind 
filing for bankruptcy 
when they can’t manage 
to hold a deep conversation adequately.

They 
tell her she’s loved instead 
with the receipt of their words 
ready to purge 
every accountability of the verb. 
Their insurance, 
is an assurance to leave 
she receives with 100% guarantee, 
no questions asked
when “putting out” 
no longer warrants them to stay.

She says, 
her optimism is daily dying.

Dying in the womb 
of her next relationship
before she ever meets 
Mr. Next. 
You’ll call her cold, 
even with 
your fingers on her thermostat. 
When 
did you ever think 
“DTF” 
was an acceptable 
“pickup line?”

She’s telling you 
that she’s losing faith in us!

And I know 
you’re not listening
because the game is on, 
you’re not listening 
because you only tune her in 
during commercial breaks, 
you’re not listening 
because children stay silent 
when adults are speaking.

When YOU 
finally learn 
how to approach a woman, 
you’ll probably expire
before the occasion occurs, 
but if you don’t, 
“DTF”
will still be 
an inappropriate approach, 
your imagination 
will at large 
be unimaginative, 
at worst 
the rejections will embolden you 
to use it more, 
at best 
you’ll still be 
doomed to fail.