Game Rules

He says the only thing good about me is that I’m attractive
Like I’m supposed to be excited about that shit
Like I’m supposed to jump for joy
But we both know, we both know, that means
he hates me
He cant find another worthwhile quality
Except I’m cute
And he wonders why, why, I keep searching
For someone who can see past eyeliner
For someone who can see past lace front wigs and  girdles
For someone who knows I write poetry, and Im an excellent mom
And excellent chef, and excellent seamstress and a great listener
But those things are not important
Not compared to ass in skinny jeans
All that matters really is if I mature gracefully
If I still look like Im twenty on his arm when he is 60
Like I’m supposed to order plastic surgery to keep it up
Like I’m supposed to work out 7 hours a day so he stays impressed
What I need is different
What I need is a man who sees
But not with his eyes with is heart
One that can say, she is smart, she is kind, she is funny she is talented
And not be jealous
One that can say she is creative, she is honest, she is genuine
And not because I bought him something or kissed his ass
But apparently I am a fool, might be my ball but its game rules