I have had King by Florence on and off of my Spotify On Repeat for years. I've screamed the lyrics on my 2 AM runs, I've danced in my kitchen while making protien-less meals, and in lace while dusting my prized bar cart. However, the lyrics have become more literal than what my psyche originally attached to them for.
I moved from my sink to the silk couch, taking a Plan B, when there was not concrete reasoning to. You tell me you don't want children. But then change, to with me. You say it's the "state of the world" but we both know you'll change your mind when a woman who behaves how you'd like enters the picture. You were just saying how you admire my over-commitment to "give back". You beamed of pride while you complimented grey eyes across the table. And you liked my smile while it tells you stories of enjoying life (with only my minor speed bumps of self-inflicted doubt). But not after last night.
You let me talk about my CJ Hendry collection with excitement and giddy. You asked about my Blue Dog background and I cut myself off before getting into the depths of George Rodrique. You let me open up and I watch you do the same. It felt safe, but we both thought the other was. We both thought the other was more invested, more interested, more vulnerable, more committed. But we were going through all the motions of what we thought was expected of two late-20's seeing each other not-yet-seriously. But not after last night.
You appreciated how much I could honestly communicate. Because if we don't have our voices, then what do we have? You agreed and shared more than I thought one would at this stage. You told stories of love past, of trauma current, of family history, and the ideas of the future unknown. But never boundaries. Only after last night.
But after last night - I am glad that I am no mother, I am no bride.
I am King.
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