The Weaker Sex

I think I finally got it—
Why we who are stigmatized monthly
So that we may bear children
And suffer the joys of raising them
—Why we women are called the
“Weaker” sex.
We aren’t “weak” because you are strong:
Lord knows that ain’t the truth.
We are “weak-ER,” for you, first, are weak,
Pitiful enough to not know what you have
Until you’ve thrown it away,
And then, still pathetic enough to come crawling back
And expect us to kneel to reach your level.
We are weak-ER because we do.
I met you on your birth day,
Mere hours after you came into this world.
Even then, something in the cosmos must have known
Fate would twist and turn with me and you.
Looking back I say you were
Nothing I ever wanted and
So much I didn’t need,
And yet still, you were my everything…
Off and on, for stretches of time,
This illogical motif in my personal plot
That almost sent me to a more permanent spot
—You killed me, but I rose again
Out of the ashes, out of the dust
Out of the nothing that I’d imagined was “us”.
You ripped my heart out,
Held it throbbing in your hand,
And tossed it aside.
I was unworthy of even a break,
So I shattered on my own:
Shattered the promises you never fulfilled,
Splintered all the empty hopes and dreams,
Destroyed the demeanor you left me drowning in,
And, through implosion, rose anew.
I still hate to say it, but They were right:
I’m better off without you.
I picked myself up and
Brushed myself off and
Built myself up again, piece by piece—
I’m stronger than you know.
But then again, you couldn’t know.
You never even tried.
I was just a hit-and-run,
The road you doubled back on,
Fearful of where I might lead.
You left me with nothing but a beautiful
Memory, and even that might be a lie.
Time passes.
Separately, lives change.
I achieved my revised dreams,
Did everything I ever wanted,
Let go of all I didn’t need—
I’d made it.
I was strong.
And then I learned that
Maybe I was lying to myself the whole time,
For evidently, seeing your name and
Reading your words can
Send me straight back to my knees,
To a bliss that faded to fast and
To the lies I held so dear and
Most of all, to the anger
Which has now become a fear.
“Weak” because to this day you can make me cry.
Success comes at a price—loneliness:
The top is a desolate place.
“Weak” for entertaining the notion of taking you back
For something’s better than nothing at all.
But wait, what is it I still see in you?
Feel for you?
Believe?
What that I see, and what that you seem
Belongs in the nightmare rather than the dream?
What damage do you feel you can undo now?
The scars have faded, but they are forever there.
It just might be too late.
Is it time to let you in, or time to let you go?
Your time has passed—it’s my time now
My time! And I’m wasting it
Thinking about you,
What was, what could have been,
Ever since you walked back into my life
Uninvited—I should really give you a piece of my mind!
But that’s worth more than anything you can offer,
So I’ll keep it to myself.
I just hope you know who I am now,
Because I sure as hell don’t know you,
Don’t trust you,
Don’t miss you and don’t want you.
I waited not, nor am I “weak”,
Nor am I too proud, too strong.
So say your piece, and I’ll say mine,
And maybe bygones will be bygones,
If you ain’t still rappin that same tired-ass song.
For, though I may stumble under the weight of my world and
I may occasionally bow my head in shame and
Insecurities and learning experiences abound,
I’ll play the fool no more.
Even if you speak again of dreams and queens,
I left “weakness” behind in the ashes of the old me.