No More

Like a cyclone

Words open up my world.

Allowing me to give insight, to my inner plight.

Presumably guilty of passion. Lust isn’t my fashion.

Nor is Love.

A hardened heart. Calloused and scarred.

Complicated and hard.

Barriers built to protect from a love not had,

Yet.

Self-love a gift.

Hell, I wouldn’t know, the shoe didn’t fit.

Myself.

Daddy’s girl, I never was.

Temperament and face like his.

No-nonsense, strictly biz.

Ingrained inadequate,

before starting, give up and quit.

Emotional baggage dragging me around.

Hands tied and bound.

No peep, no sound.

That is until I found my crown,

placed sideways upon my head.

To be seen and not heard,

a great tragedy for some.

My story is sure to help one.

Days of poisoning myself are past,

learning of a love that lasts.

My confidence once shattered

from one that no longer matter.

Imprisoned no more,

myself I adore.

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14 Replies to “No More”

      1. Thank both of you ladies. It won’t let me reply to Harotianessentials

        Liked by 2 people

  1. Lovely poem Eve, yes self love is the road to happynice, that baggage is just that baggage to be tost to the side and forgotten not to way you down any longer. ❤️✌️

    BY FOR NOW

    Like

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