Wallet

 

Go ahead, flaunt the size of your wallet,

I was never in it for your pocket,

Because I don’t “phasao a man” nor view them as a “catch.”

Ah, the false notion you have—

That you were the one who brought me down to my knees,

As if I was hopelessly in love with you.

If only you could comprehend what was really beneath the surface.

It wasn’t about losing myself in you,

But in losing my purpose.

If you think it was all for you,

Let me make it crystal clear:

I wanted to burn my skin off,

To rid myself of the stench of what you think you touched.

This was never about your age, race, or face.

It was about the rhythm of your aura,

And how your energy consumed mine,

Pulled me into its pace,

Until I could no longer remember my own.

You mistook my confusion for submission,

But what you didn’t see was the storm raging within.

Your power was nothing more than an illusion,

An empty shell that I once thought I needed.

But now, I see through it—

And realize my worth was never tied to your validation.

It was never about you.

It was always about me.

And the battle I fought within,

To regain the space that you filled with nothing but shadows.

So no, I don’t need your validation,

Or your approval,

Or your false love.

I needed myself back.

And now, I’m taking it.