I see you looking-heading my way
thinking about what it is you want to say.
It’s so interesting to be in this place.
Not wanting or needing attention,
your approval,
your love-
unwilling to participate in the chase.
I feel full, no need for a second helping…
I’m good.
No really, I’m good.

Not your money, your resources, or your name—
a woman of my means?
Sir, in that arena,
you and I are the same.
It seems as though you came to offer me your cape,
and it offends you to see that I’m not waiting for you
to have my life take shape.

The man who has me- loves without control,
contributes to my thinking,
my being, my purpose, my soul.
He lets me in, knows when to let me guide,
supports my ambition and desires;
taking any losses in stride.
He’s my person because he tends to my heart,
there are no conditions or ego- yeah, THAT part.
How he leads allows me to maintain feminine energy-
together we pursue joy,
since happy is my responsibility.
To put it plainly:
I choose to love him, and he chooses to love me.
So, I’m good.