An Ode to Queens: Damaged


An Ode to Queens: Damaged


Jasmine Jackson

His kisses were sweet as honey; had you craving for more. His conversation was amazing; kept you intellectually intrigued and had you researching more topics. He would rub the side of your cheek and You would hold your breath inhaling him completely. You ever loved the identity of a man that you thought you knew? Like literally outlined the wedding you two would have and the children you would bare for him? Have you daydreamed about what should happen if everything goes as planned in your mind? Ever acted like a lady and thought you were thinking like a man? Had a man so into you that you just knew, that you knew, that you knew you would be the one?

His words begin to cut you like a knife; unexpected and cruel. His intense conversations are slowly evolving into meaningless text messages and then resolve into irritating silence? Sex became a chore, your punani is suddenly a dumping ground for his frustrations and neglect seeps in? He doesn’t move smooth like Denzel like you thought, his perfection is now just a tarnished memory and you are the one receiving the blots of ink on his crumpled piece of notebook paper. Loving a man that hasn’t loved anyone but himself is a dangerous game.


Love doesn’t hurt. It isn’t excuses and it isn’t a sign to fix the issues that were there before you. Reminiscing about what should have, could have, and didn’t will not change any circumstances. These tears that you have collected, memories you’ve stored, and images of the once amazing sex are not love. As I get older, I realize that loving someone is about the hardest damn thing you can do and though it is hard; it is the most amazing experience a woman can feel. Experiences that you’ve racked up aren’t supposed to stain you and label you as damaged but teach you exactly how to properly love and who you are supposed to end up with. Women have this thing that either allows us throw all of us into something or completely obliterate us; these little “things” are titled emotions. We swell up our chest and become so wrapped up in one little spell that these emotions taint our eyes and hearts with regret and create baggage.

But by all means queens, understand that Earth, life, and joy begin with what you have between your thighs and hips. Love and hope begin with what is pumping in your chest. Realize that those wondrous sights that the world sees begins with what you are able to create and birth. This isn’t an ode to your pussy; it is rather appreciation of being a queen. It is rather words to encourage honesty, accountability, sensuality, motherhood, and pure love. As our generations continue, love is being abandoned and crumpling under sexual relations and rushing into things. You desire the love from a king then be sure to embody a queen. When love isn’t placed in the right time frame, there are broken hearts, broken homes, and broken people.


He who loves you will love you without a second thought. He will adore you. He will not be afraid. He will not falter. He will not fail you. He will not flee with another woman. He will not accept the stigma that “all men cheat,” or that “niggas ain’t shit.” He will be your king. The man that we began with at the beginning of this article that broke you WILL be a king to another woman. You will ask “Girl, why not me?” Or cry and say, “she got the man I trained him to be.” But you know what? You will understand that he was not meant for you. But hold your head up and accept the reality that … Well, shit happens. Love you enough and trust you enough to understand that he was your season for growth and reality. Love is an ever changing and evolving power; you just have to grow and change and pray for the bigger picture.

We are queens; Act like it!

Photo cred: Pinterest, black queen African Products website

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