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Disrespectfully you ask:
Who are you to invade my space
With your disapproving face
Disconcerted because I smoke and
Drink or think there’s
No shame in ogling women—
Just a game I play
Once I’ve devoured what’s
On my plate yet hunger
For dessert—eye candy
For Yankee Doodle Dandy
With witty speech
Always handy with the girls.

Your nagging curbed
Smoking and drinking.
Your vow reminders restrained
Keenness for girl watching.
Band of gold imprisoned
The me I used to be
So chill your indignation.

Civilly I re-ask:
Who am I?

Since you’re clueless,
My et tu, Brutus,
Betraying me with your
Lustful sneak-peeks, like
You’re sitting next to empty seat;
My killing yourself slowly honey
With your bad habits,
Those charismatic bandits,
Widow and widower makers—
Let me school you.

I am she who
Camouflages her sadness
Suppresses her womanness
Fades into blackness
Functions heartbrokenly
Shoves words she should say
To the back of closets,
Bites her tongue
Swallows her pride
Lets you decide
Her worth hidden within
Like a rare priceless pearl
Waiting for you to discover,
Uncover for it to take
Your breath away.

I am she who
Flavors your madness
With my clear-headedness,
Transforms your backwoods
Bumpkinness into refined goods;
Cares you’re healthy
Expects your fidelity.

I am she who
Opens her heart, soul, mind, love
To you not so you can
Trample them—smashing to smithereens
Via your far from subtly
Dropped anvil after anvil.

Who am I?
I am she who is too precious
For you to hurt me that much.

– composed January 27, 2018


Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church—a love marked by giving, not getting. ~ Ephesians 6:25, MSG