You let a good girl go when you couldn’t keep it in your pants. She asked you to wait. She told you she wasn’t ready. She said she couldn’t have it yet. She said she was still laying her eggs, it wasn’t safe. But you couldn’t wait. Somehow you figured you can’t spend a day without being between a woman’s legs. Somehow you figured out that your testosterone were nuts.
So you kept her on the loop, hanging on a limbo. Looking at her with mediocrity of a stare, with a smirk in your heart. She told you couple of times she loved you. But you, you whispered something, you wondered how can she love you yet she can’t give you the cookie. You just didn’t understand the difference between love and sex, and patience.
See, you rushed when you were young and lost your virginity, (if boys have a thing like that) so you stood with your pintle held high like a sword hoisted in a victory. So you thought you ‘came a man. See you made her uncomfortable with your demands. You made her feel out of love. Out of place. Unappreciated. You made her second guess if she was at all worthy of anyone.
You let a good girl go when she made you feel unwanted. She was going through her phases, but was afraid of showing you, for she risked being weak in your eyes. She needed time. She needed space to breathe and rediscover herself. So she asked you for a break. If only you understood you could’ve seen that she loved you. But you didn’t. So you reached unto your phone and made calls. Sent texts to other feminine friends, who at the time seemed loose enough to accommodate you. So you slithered between their pants like a snake and you found what you’ve been looking for. You called it love. But we know better.

You let a good girl go when you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You didn’t love her enough oh no. Patience wasn’t a virtue your mother taught you. Your pride was an act of exorcism, fragments by fragments you ousted the love in her. Made her weak and not strong. So she fell out of place. You were busy tending to other women you couldn’t see.
She felt out of love like a snow falling from the sky in winter. She was the last snow. Beside the shedding leaves of the tree, I stood, waited for something new and exciting. As the snow fell, I waited for it to rest in my palms. It was cold, and it couldn’t adjust to my touch. I was patient for summer. When it finally came, the sun rays stroke her hair, it beamed her face in a smiling tune.

So I found her nestled in the arms of cold wind, wounded up like a soldier who survived an ambush. I took her in.

You let a good girl go. Thank God you did.
For I found myself a queen. All you can do is dream.