Two decades since I wrote those so-true words.
Although I was penning them, I don't think I heard.
And even if I did hear I don't think I had the courage.
To admit my perspective is this reason I couldn't cross that bridge.
But years have come and years have gone.
Tears have dropped and blood's been drawn.
And sweat? Profusely! Although out of order
Wishlist on men has somehow gotten shorter.
The art of settling without hating who I see in the mirror.
The notion of forgiving and admitting to having been a sinner.
A recipe for 33-no kids is what I'm baking.
A destiny for complacency is what I'm contemplating.
So far from that 13-year-old girl who was pregnant with a daughter.
Too deep to pretend to be comfortable wading in shallow water.
Still lost trying to be found so I dropped 16 mean lines.
Ringing true, in 2016 love is still hard to find.
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