How is the weather
Now in London
I couldn’t wait to leave
Shake the dust off my feet
Car European
Villa on the water
Ball gowns and champagne
Cocktails and high rollers
What men I left you for
He’s yelling down the phone at me
Leave him or I will ruin his life too
His mantra to me is
Nothing good for you
Nothing good for you
Never in a month of Sundays
Would I consider being with him
He calls me to kill my mindset
He maintains control of it
Affect my new relationships
Tip me off my trajectory
I’ll destroy him
If you go near him
He said to me
I said to him
Over and over again
Never in a month of Sundays
I don’t want to be your lover
I don’t like how rough your language is
All the men witness me saying it to him
I say it again and again
Never in a month of Sundays
Would this woman allow him to touch me
He calls to adjust my mindset again
He has control of me
Calling from London
In my bedroom
At university
He calls to say
That I can’t have a boyfriend
He says that I can’t
Return to who I was
Before I met him
Venezuala Miami
No one saw you there love
Now your identity
Belongs to me
I will draw you
How I need you to be seen
I now own your identity
Because I was stealing from you
You know what will happen
He says again
If I tell
Anyone
I will change your identity
You gave up
Who you were when you met me
I am your god
And you shall have no other god but me
He says to me
But I am free-wheeling
In love falling
Loving life again
I would never have been with him
Not in a month of Sundays
I despise everything he stands for
His razor blades and cannulas
His female rating systems
He breaks the female body apart
And he writes on it
There is a number
For every cut of meat
For him the world is a beauty contest
Women are contestants in a brothel
He despised equal rights
Payment and feminism
He doesn’t like my ethnicity
Tells me to change it for him
I refused to sleep with him
Again and again
Never in a month of Sundays, I said to him
But he has to protect his ego and reputation
I just want to be with a new man
Left it all in London
Please stop bothering me
Champagne free-flowing
Beach walks
Loving talks
Not sorry I don’t love him
Have never regretted
Leaving them
Have never looked back
I moved on
Forgot, forgave, set boundaries
Over and over again
But it kept chasing me down
With people to attack my mindset, assets and business
I am spiritual
But they want it all
They want to be worshipped like gods on earth
They want to steal work
Store up riches
Be greedy
Be surrounded by sycophants
People to protect fragile egos
They want people to love them
They don’t live in humility
He just wouldn’t let me be
So before I put down the phone
I say again
Never in a month of Sundays
Never in a month of Sundays
Would I allow you to touch me
Stop calling me
Someone wants to be famous
Will do just about anything to worshipped
Cossetted away with no sense of reality
He steals his work because he is greedy
Some of the other men are creatives
I don’t like men who aren’t creative or educated
Never in a month of Sundays would I allow him to touch me
So I walked out the door
They saw me flee the room frightened again and again
Never touch me
I said to him
What is with all the forcing for writing