My man.

My Jack Sparrow searching for his Treasure.

My Wolverine.

My X-man.

My ex...man.

My ex-man was nothing but a little boy who was too blinded by diamonds and clubs to realize he was shuffled in with a queen.

Let's call a spade a spade. He was a baby. Still clinging to women's breasts for security, suckling away his baby-soft purity.

The stench of vodka could not hide the Similac that still lingered in the creases of his neck.

I came short of the Giving Tree 

Not giving him all of me because me and him only loved in season.

He was my Fall but now it's time for Spring cleaning.

Time to let go of childish things like gumball machine promise rings and unreliable pinky-promising.

Time to let go of forst dates in mommy's car and wishing for love on shooting stars because I know joy doesn't come from cookie jars.

It comes from loving who you are.

It's knowing your beauty without some boy telling you so.

It's when you learn that strength is not how much you can take, but how easily you can let go.

He'll never take "no."

Always wants some girl to "go low" but I'm on my knees to pray not blow.

You can't call yourself a man when you buy pants 10 sizes too big.

Real men don't act like horny pigs.

Snorting contraband and taking swigs just to be "man" enough to squeal unintelligible nonsence.

Trying to get some needy, loose, dissolute female to get drenched in his

"Come here shawty" as he looks at her while she paints her lips with bubblecum-pink lipgloss.

He is so lost. 

So unaware of the real world. 

Except now it's not Barney and Elmo. It's 2-Chains and Future.

My man.

My ex-man.

My Jack Sparrow came short of grabbing the gold.

Now he's lonley and cold because his "swagg" was too bold.

Ego too strong to realize he was wrong.

So that relationship didn't last long

Because I am Woman. I am Strong.