You are independent and strong. Beautiful.
But not by the measures of the men that have the word at the tip of their tongue.
But by the measure of the maker and possibly by the men who have it tucked away
And only use it on certain occasions for certain worthy women.
But most assuredly by the measures of the reflection who stares back
And asks why don’t they see my worth?
Worthless are the empty words that are thrown at me in attempt to somehow
Swoon me into their bedroom.
I dodge them
But one hits me. It may be empty but it’s heavy.
And it hurt. Lies aren’t lightweight and wait, why don’t they see my worth?
Call me Queen not “Queenie”. And you be a king
And one day our love will sing.
Respect me because I am a daughter,
I am a granddaughter, I am a sister,
I am a niece, I’ll be an aunt, and one day I’ll be a mother.
Respect me because I respect myself.
And even on the days that you don’t
I still will.