Hindsight

Brotha, I want you to look at me, And tell me what you see
Are you able to discern my majesty and strength,
Or just my size eighteen?
I think of how very sad it must be to be you.
To have a woman so magnificent before you
And be capable of viewing her merely at face value.
Now, Brotha, let me explain
What happens when I look into your eyes.
I see your hidden talents and might.
I see your beauty and your grace
I see darkness broken by your light.
Brotha it’s time for you to get past the superficial

And delve into the realness of the supernatural.

You need to get past the frivalicies of the outer
shell and see what you are missing.
You see it is this Queen before you that you
should still be kissing.

Now, Brotha, I have some issues that I need to address.
For example, what was up with all that mess

you kept spitting at me?
Talking about Baby, maybe you should do a couple of extra laps on your treadmill,
And don’t forget your weight watchers meeting at three.
You’d say these things to me, yet I would
think back to that very last night
When we were cuddled up close and snuggled up tight.

I guess for just that one night you forgot about my connotation
And love me patiently and right.
And yet, when we were walking down the street that very next day,
You walked a few feet ahead of me going right on about your way.
Wait, wait, hold up, you walking ahead of me?
I should be the one ashamed. I think it’s you
who needs to be on that treadmill
Exercising your brain.