The Heart In Me

The heart in me is hard in me.
This life has hardened me.
Life has disheartened me, tremendously.
It’s hard for me
to set the heart in me free to be.
Free to be
a complete heart in me.
Lord, complete in me
a heart that’s free.
A heart that’s completely free
to be at ease.
In me you see
someone that should be pleased.
I am pleased, generally.
I am pleased to show you the me
that is incomplete.
I have needs to be loved, you see.
Speaking straightforwardly.
For little fingers tapping me
and asking me
for more pieces of candy.
My progeny
crying for me
and my womb throbbing to be
and kicking me
forcing the beauty out of me.
I have the need to be held reassuringly.
By a man, ultimately.
Sexually dear to me
and spiritually stimulating.
But, firstly, paternally.
Pops never held me.
I mean, reassuringly as if approving of me.
And before I make this about he and me
and all the ways it should be,
please understand me.
He is who he grew to be.
Maybe he just has an unaffectionate personality.
But, he’s never looked at me
and said to me:
“You were made most beautifully.
Too pretty to be any kin of me.”
And just maybe,
that little bit of esteem,
would allow me to let others love me.
And even after the divorce proceedings,
I’ve never had a man fight for me.
Fight for his opportunity
to love me.
And all this confidence that you see in me,
is a weak facade of a girl desperate to be loved
but too afraid to allow you to come but so close to me.
But I’m willing to let the past be
and thrive on my own realities.
Making my man everything to me
and raising sons and daughters
to be kings and queens.
To first love me,
and build empires of love
from the stones that life has
thrown at me.
Don’t ask me what my problems may be.
There’s no need for me to speak specifically.
My vision is before me.
And what keeps me thriving,
Is that woman I long to be.

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