there's no need to stress, i'm safe in my decision
for i've already surpassed the stages of feminine skepticism.
at first i thought he was another man,
caked in conceit and condescension.
he triggered my ingrained instincts,
so i sat beside him and instructed with sanctimonious attention.
then he opened up an anecdote of his ex
and without listening, i bolted to my sister's defense.
but then he confessed his heart, we returned to the start,
and although i couldn't reciprocate, with his mind i intended to impart.
sentiments were shared, and impressions were exchanged,
and in time i realized i was aggressive and quite insane.
yet i am a daughter of an emerging age, wired with an objective and an inconsolable rage,
therefore i shattered his glass soul and sliced his heart using the filaments of my shame.
but as i was apathetic and fraudulently wilty,
he'd enclosed me in chains scarily and quickly.
at first, i'd assumed he was manipulating me,
yet the worst part was that he was never truly guilty.
i'm the one who fucked us up, i can admit it,
but i wasn't this silent and self loathing until i met him.
i cherish my over-apologetic behavior and the butterflies in my stomach as his gifts which granted me grace,
yet although it could be over, and it's made me older,
it's left a gaping, yet non fillable space.
there's no need to stress, i'm safe in my condition,
for i've realized the possible overexertion of my self admonition.
if he's innocently fucked my head i'll never know.
yet perhaps my feminine skepticism
was all along, a feminine security mechanism.
