Waiting.

Sometimes I wonder why I stick around.
Waiting around for men who don’t know what they want and aren’t in a rush to find out.
Men who don’t hold me at night and mean the words they whisper in my ear.
Men who don’t recognize the fireball that engulfs me when they don’t do what they promised they would.
I am not a delicate poem you recite in a coffee shop awaiting approving snaps.
I am spoken word. Yelled from the rooftop for the whole world to hear.
YOU WILL HEAR ME!
You can only hide me behind closed doors for so long.
Hold your hand over my mouth and try to silence my cries for affection for so long.
I am a bird waiting to soar into the endless sky.
I can’t be lied to for too long.
It won’t be too long before I start feel neglected.
If you can’t love me the way I deserve to be loved then baby, this ship is going to sink.
Or maybe I’ll just throw you overboard.
Or jump ship before I have to clean up the mistakes of another man. Again.
It is not my responsibility to teach you how to love me.
To teach you how to be a man.
I will not be held accountable for your short comings.
I will not be blamed for your misguided aggression.
Trying to be a player.
Masking your foolishness with excuses like “I’m not trying to be locked down” and “You knew what you were getting into”.
I refuse to be the one who has to hold your hand and walk you through life.
That is not my job.
Sometimes I wonder why I stick around.
I wonder why I stick around waiting for a man to change.
Why do I wait for a train that left the station years ago?
I try to heal my wounds by telling myself that I tried my hardest but I shouldn’t have to try so hard.
I shouldn’t have to force this thing.
This thing you call companionship.
I won’t be sticking around any longer.
Either you give me what I deserve or you’ll be the one sticking around.
Waiting for a woman who has had enough of your crap.
Waiting for a woman who isn’t turning back.

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