I’m not your bitch, bitch

In honor of National Poetry Month here’s a short one.

Stop asking me to fetch things, do work for you, dress up, smile pretty, play nice.

Constantly, constantly, constantly…then the nerve…ask for a hug.



 I’m not. I won’t. I shan’t. 

I’m not your bitch, bitch.

So kiss my grits fo’ eva, cause I don’t give no kind of damn. 

The soil beneath my feet will get a closer look than you. As I strut off into the humid night. 

Booty eating my pants is all you’ll see. So memorize that. Bitch. 

I need rest.

I’m hungry. 

I’m angry.

I’m lonely. 

So come tuck me into bed, fetch me a sandwich, and leave me be. 

Tomorrow coin toss

 to see whose turn to be 



3 thoughts on “I’m not your bitch, bitch

      1. No problem! Hope you had a great time on your vacation. I’m not sure you can re-nominate the person who nominated you. IMO, you can nominate as many or as few bloggers as you like. I wanted to recognize some bloggers of color whose writing left an impression on me.


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