Open Letter

This is an open letter to all the boys I used to let me call theirs. Theirs, as if I allowed myself to be your property; maybe that is why you always acted as if you owned me. I cannot fathom the idea of actually allowing myself to be flaunted around as your most prize possession; it disgusts me knowing I found satisfaction in being your favorite trophy.

I can't help but laugh when you tell me how I've "lost" self-respect for myself due to the man that's been in between my sheets lately hasn't been you. I think the hate you are spitting is just designed to hurt me, pathetic isn't it? How the thought of not being able to control me anymore kills you; well most importantly your ego.

You see the one thing a man refuses to come to terms with is rather quite simple. You see, I was not placed on this planet just to become someone's "person" or "trophy wife". I agreed to come to this planet to become my highest self, not the hottest version you see me as. Despite the taboo that has since become societal norms, love should not be designed as a territorial battle of who belongs to who but rather the connection between the parties. Love on a divine platform will never make you cry yourself to sleep; love is a bond not a title or a constant battle of tug and war.

I now know that does not require handcuffs unless you want it to. Love should be kind, it should feels as gentle as watching the waves crash on shore on a misty morning. Love is a safety net, that wraps you up in such bliss you become breathless; He should not knock the wind out of you.