An Ode to Me

I think I appreciate spreading myself across my bed more than someone’s palms pressed against my skin.

I enjoy the crisp wind creeping through my window, stroking my back more than someone’s existence lying next to mine.

I’d rather be awoken each morning to a cup of coffee made perfectly by myself then pretending the muck you made is amazing and pouring it out as you turn your back.

Because I don’t know love in the way most people do, because I don’t feel enough long enough to truly be excited when I see someone gazing upon my profile through my peripheral vision.

I don’t want the smell of you to linger in my bed when you are gone, just a pressing reminder in the back of my head that I could not love you for more than one night.

I don’t want to find pieces of you left behind the next day, when I have things to do, rooms to clean, no time to be thinking of you wondering why I’m only capable of being alone.

You’ll never love me the way I do

You’ll never look into my eyes and become hypnotized by a green so deep, it cannot be replicated by nature

Because there is nothing to compare me to.

I am too vulgar, too blunt, too real to be a flower

I am hotter and more fiery than fire itself

I am nothing like the sun, you can’t take your eyes off me because I am dark, I am new, I am different, I am unthinkable

I am a disaster, so perfectly put together, my pieces don’t fit, but someone took a hammer and smashed me until I became whole

There’s no pulling me apart, I do not fall apart, I do not break, you can not fit inside, there is no more room inside of me for anyone or anything

I am me.

I wake up next to myself, more happy than when I went to sleep

Because in the middle of the night, I did not sneak out and leave myself alone

Because I am so much more than a one night stand

I am something real

Something so strange that even mirrors can’t bear to see me leave but they love to watch my hips swing as I strut away, carrying myself with an unnecessary confidence through my everyday life

Because I told myself I am beautiful, I am sexy, I am powerful, I am a woman, each day until

I became something so surreal, that I am unbelievable.

I did not need a man to caress my back and hold my hand, I held myself each night

Until one day, I did not need anyone but me.

I am tired of writing poetry and wasting beautiful verses on people who do not deserve a piece of this ass

I deserve a piece of this ass and some words to read with my morning oatmeal.

Because damn.

I love me.