I fell asleep and woke up smiling,
and I was smitten.
On Friday you told me I was beautiful
and then I let you win because I felt bad
beating a boy--
and I was taken.
--but on Saturday I let you make love to me
and I cried on my bedroom floor when I got home, alone.
And I was confused.
And then on Sunday I decided it wasn't right--you decided
you didn't want it--and I was frustrated.
And then on Monday I realized I have fire in my words yet ignited--
I have revolutions to write,
And young spirits to inspire--
and I was free.
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