My best self
is my real self
my authentic self
and I’m that self
in every right now.
And that self, me, she, I, her, has no interest in bullshit
no matter how pretty it is.
The music is in the moment and is the realest.
You don’t feel it?
I created it. I choose my teachers and I choose the challenges I face.
If you ain’t good enough, ain’t god enough then say that is the case.
You’re not god enough not good enough and I volunteered to wait…
until you would be. But you won’t see, see?
If your best self feels it’s better off without being intertwined in this life with me
at the door of my fragility
at the cusp of my vulnerability
with the choir singing
then that is out of my control.
What’s outside of my control is of no concern.
What’s to be prized knows its value at inception.
You don’t feel the love?
Then you aren’t ever going to be good enough
for me. The G Key.
So why am I even waiting?
I’m magnificent at present.
You go try to be.
You’re free, melody.
What’s mine is mine, no questioning for eternity.
I’ll never regret that I met you but I’ll never forget that you think you can outdo me.
Your heartbeat used to bring me a kind of peace.
A treble clef dancing.
It don’t mean shit to you now apparently. I’m not changing so it’s maddening.
I’ve always let you go and I will continue to do so
and you’ll always come back eventually.
It’s a wavelength thing.
But next time though
I’ma tell yo ass no
because this time you made it too clear that you’ll never be good enough, god enough for me.
The Key of G. You still chasing.
I’m too much chaotic harmony
other than an emperor among men to appease.
So let it be written baby, so let it be.
Tell your best self when you meet him
Even a piano has 230 strings…
My best self