Maybe I am not interested.
Maybe I like the challenge
he says-
a smirk on his face.
You like the challenge?
I want to ask.
This is not a challenge
for what will you win?
I am not, nor will I ever be
a prize to be won.
I am not some compensation that you receive
for all your effort.
I am not the medal that you
receive at the end of the race.
I am the water that you crave
that you need
as you run.
I am a woman.
I am a forest
filled with trees
and flowers
and colours.
I am beautiful and I am brilliant.
I am a woman.
I am a force of nature.
I am a rainstorm.
I am a flood.
I will drown out all of your words.
I am the wind.
I am a hurricane.
I will blow you away.
I will blow down your stereotypes
and ideas of what you think
ought to be yours.
I am not some beautiful, precious,
fragile, senseless thing
for you to acquire.
I am a woman.
I am not I prize.
I am art.
I am a masterpiece.
And you
you will always merely
be
the boy that thought
he could win me.
Recent Comments