Poetry

To Men Who Are Not My Valentines

A letter to my younger self

Photo by Matteo Kutufa on Unsplash

CW/TW: Themes of sexual assault

To the boy who jammed his fingers down my pants on the log ride when I was eleven,

You were right.

You said that I would learn to like it.

I did, eventually.

Years later with boys who were not ham-fisted brutes

Boys who cut their fingernails and not me.

You said I would remember you

I have.

You said if I told I would be sorry.

I was,

Sorry I didn’t speak up sooner.

To the boy I didn’t marry because you cheated on me and got her pregnant,

Thank you.

I saw you three days ago

Walking into a restaurant

Your waistline was slightly thicker, your hair a little thinner

But you looked the same.

You looked good, even in khakis.

You called me big head like you used to do when we were kids and smiled at me and I remembered

Everything I would have traded for that smile.

I remembered the me that was in love with you and she was small.

Thank you for releasing me to grow.

To the boy who broke up with me over voicemail the week after my mom died,

Fuck you.

To the boy whose virginity I took in 2006,

I am sorry.

I should have tried to love you or at least

Left you alone.

I was selfish, and I took what you offered

And I kept taking,

until nothing was left

I left you a shell of yourself, crumpled little pieces for the next girl to fix

That was wrong.

I thought if karma was a

Bitch she had met her match in me

I knew

With great pussy comes great responsibility and still I never expected to be

The wet shore

You broke yourself against. I was

In too many pieces by then to actually care

But I regret it now. You were

A sweet boy, before I

Soured you.

To the man I lost to the beltway,

Congratulations.

I heard you ran a clean campaign

I heard you won a tight race.

I could have been there with you,

(behind you,

Not beside you)

But I wasn’t sure if you needed me

Or my face. To the man

Who tried to buy me

With a sixty thousand dollar promise ring,

You taught me:

My heart is free,

My time is priceless,

My energy is invaluable, and

My peace of mind is not for sale.

To the man who threw my heart away,

Your loss.

I would have sexed you mad with ‘Vodka, and water, and a lemon’.

I would have mentioned

Those other things.

I would have waited forever for you if the only thing I had to compete with was

The sea.

I would have warmed you with my light and fed you from the bosom

Of my spirit.

I. Would Have. Loved. you

But you are not my Valentine.

World Changer. Social Thinker. Business Owner.

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