I only picked up because your incessant calling broke me
down and it was starting to make me hate my ringer as
it reminded me over and over again, “Don't be jealous
of my boogie,” my life anthem, since people spend
their lives worried about someone else’s business, trying to
keep girls like me down for wanting to play supermodel,
for rising in our realness, for looking good, feeling gorgeous,
and now here you are making me hate my favorite song because
you think it ain't over. We can work out, you said. Give it
one more try. You were right. I hadn't tried. I stayed silent,
searching for a good excuse as to why, when it dawned on
me that if you need an excuse to stay with someone it’s time
to get away. People are people. Doesn't mean they all fit
in the same house of love. You were offering me a little bit
of love, and I was demanding a mighty love. Getting back to
my roots, the guilt I'd felt for never laughing at your jokes,
for the relief I felt when I ended things, for never loving you
turned to forgiveness. Can I get an amen? Now, sashay away.