self-contained

 

having his dick inside me

wouldn’t make me important to him.

sometimes loving him feels like

loving a pile of air.

why do I need to matter to him

anyway?  i could crown myself

the beautiful, valuable 

Treasure friend.

I’m imagining the ceremony,

marrying myself 

in the courtyard,

the yellow sundress I’d wear.

 

it hurts he chose the skinny

white lady I have zero faith in.

i know love

has nothing to do with deserving.

but the tiny bone he threw me.

small as the bones in my ear

that wish his voice was vibrating them.

 

if he came in me, 

he still wouldn’t love me, 

although it might 

seem that way,

until he pulled out his dick.

 

in the courtyard before he moved,

one day, he said “nothing 

could top that joke!”

and walked away

to his truck parked in the driveway.

i wanted to call out

come back–the jokes aren’t

what we love you for.  instead

i watched him 

pass through the gate.

 

i almost wish i was drowning 

because he might 

touch me.

but I’m a healthy 

non-drowning person, 

totally fine, and self-contained.