Afro-funk

I thought I had her; that I would always have her; that she was mine to keep. It was no fault of hers that I got comfortable, lost in a fantasy of my own. She was mine to have and to hold; always with me, on my side. Oh what hubris! I’m disgusted at my own ignorance and naivety now that I have learned.

She was never mine. Not to hold, for she was no man’s possession. She’s not bound by loyalty to anyone, not bound by any form of obligation.

She courts who she pleases and may God help you when she runs out on you. May the Good Lord have mercy on your soul when she says she’s done.

I thought she’d always be there. Now bound by the chains of this existence, I find myself in an endless pursuit, chasing her desiring more of her each day.

Oh, the futility; because deep in my heart, I know she’s not mine to have or control.

She is no one’s; yet all long for her the more she eludes them.

She is stern

She is cold

She is unfeeling

She is TIME.