I Choose Me

I am more than quiet grace.

I move by Spirit—

not haste.

No maps. No guides.

Just sacred instinct,

a little ache,

a little rise.

The waves don’t drown me.

The fire refines me.

A phoenix, yes—

but not for show.

I choose my soul

because that’s the grace

I’ve always been owed.

Not because I’m selfish.

Not because I’m cold.

But because I will not pour

from a cup

that costs me my soul.

I choose me—

again and again.

And now I’ll shift this rhythm

so you can feel

every sacred syllable

beneath your skin.

Not because I’m hardened.

Not because I’m cruel.

But because I made a vow

to never bleed

for someone else’s rule.

I will fill my cup

before I reach for yours.

Even if that truth

shakes the room,

even if it

closes doors.

I do not walk in performance.

I do not kneel to pretend.

You rise in love

or exit softly—

but either way,

this is not where I bend.

Not because I’m selfish.

Not because I’m untrue.

But because I love myself

and truth

more deeply

than I was ever taught to love you.

This is not defiance.

This is devotion.

To the God within me.

To the rhythm that chose me.

To the woman I’ve become

through every flame and flood.

Stay sovereign.

Stay sacred.

Stay soft—

but never at the cost of your soul.