Myself

I will always want myself. Always. Darling, I wrote myself a love poem two nights ago. I don’t know where you get this from but I am whole; woman who grows flowers between her teeth. I tend to my garden. I dance myself out of pain. You think women like me crawl for pity? You ever seen the offspring of a lion eat grass? This wanting of myself gets stronger with age. I host myself to myself. I am whole.

– Ijeoma Umebinyuo

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weak woman

I don’t want to be a weak woman

That loves and loves and loves too deep woman

Calling your name when I should be asleep woman

But you make all my plans go flying out the window

I don’t want to be a corny love poem woman

Forgetting how to spend weekends alone woman

Waiting for love to come back home woman

But that’s just what you do to me

Lover

King

My heart is yours for the taking

Every nerve and neuron

Every cell and sentimental thought rests on you tonight

Despite my best attempts, your love has held me captive again

– soo

Adore 

Mothers love their babies, before they know them
Trace the outline of their feet, the tiny hands they will one day hold
Stare with wide eyes at the marvelous being growing inside
Whisper tenderly to their bellies, “I am yours now. You are mine. We belong to one another.”

Mothers love their babies before themselves
Make ready a space for their tiny heads to lie
Go without, so that we never lack
Overcome
Under sleep
Pour themselves out in gallon buckets until there isn’t a part of this dry, parched world that’s hasn’t been quenched by their love

Mothers write our futures in the stars
Shoo our self doubt
Build fortresses around our ambitions
Will us to keep going, until we’ve reached the land we dreamt of as children
Cheer,
Celebrate,
Encourage,
Let their babies know that they were loved, well before they were on anyone’s best of list
That they will always be loved

Mothers love, when there is nothing more to say
Teach us that there is no such thing as perfection or too damaged
That the one who broke our heart was not the one at all
That true love is here and is also coming
That once again good fortune will come knocking and find us home

– soo

Brokenness

Not crumbling. Not irreparably shattered, but definitely cracked. Definitely broken sometimes. I would be lilting if I said the big D word never came out of my mouth, was never hurled at him in anger, in frustration. One more than one occasion, I have flirted with walking away and giving up on us. But I can’t stop this nagging sense that the brokenness actually resides inside of me…that no matter where I run or to whom, I will never ever be happy until I am happy with myself.

– soo

Moments

Unlike most other girls, she never dreamt of my wedding. She wasn’t the sort to cut out pictures of slender, lithe beauties peering longingly out at her from the glossy pages of fashion magazines. She couldn’t understand the obsession with all of that lace and tulle and pink. For her, love was a porch swing, a glass of ice water, a good book, and her lover by her side.

– soo