i will not apologize for being too much for you.
i saw that girl in the dress that fell midway from thigh to knee.
you called her a slut and when i looked down at my own hemline i wondered what you truly thought of me.
do you remember the rosy lipstick that you asked me not to wear because i was “pretty without it?”
so did you think i was ugly with it?
for a month you needed a haircut but i never said anything because if you like it long you like it long,
but then you said “all i ask is don’t wear your hair up, i like it more down”
as if your opinion was supposed to matter so much to me.
so i’m not sorry for wearing tight dresses or for not holding my tongue.
i’m not sorry for keeping the lipstick
or for making more money than you
or for losing my temper when you rolled your eyes at my convictions.
i was a river and you were a dam;
you should have known i would crash through you.
i was the noise you wanted to silence and the pistol you wanted to lock
and no, i will never apologize.