My Boys and The Women

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I have been loved before I could love. Loved with all my flaws, arrogance, and darkness. Loved by women who didn’t love themselves, by those that grew with so much love in them, and by those, with so little love left in them, who gave it all to me. And when I felt undeserving, they loved me more.

I broke them. The women.

I broke them for the men that will come after me. But they still say ‘hi’.

I have drained love from good women, and I have seen my friends do the same and act like it’s a flex. We have bragged about it, beat our chests for having ice-cold hearts to hot girls.

I have seen my friends break women into so many pieces, and leave others struggling to put them together. And the women fought to keep a love that was dead alive. My friends– have been in fistfights with women, and that scares me. Because sometimes they brought weapons to a love fight, and fists to a word wrangle.

I have loved before I could be loved— tamed by wild women who couldn’t love me back. I have loved women who projected their insecurities on me and saw their past mistakes in our present. I have been used as a pillow to soak tears and cushion a fallout. I have eaten my heart because there’s no one to take it.

I have seen women send my boys crawling on their heels. My boys have dragged their egos behind them like shadows, and given them to women as rags to step on.

I have seen the screenshots. The banters you regard as memes. I have heard the laughter, the bragging, the scorn at the sight of love.

I have looked them, the women and my boys, in the eyes and I have seen me.


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