I'm sorry, Lizzo.

I never wanted much, I never do.
I barely ask for anything at 24 years old,
so when I find a drop of magic
I wish to savor,
you knock me off my feet.

You steal that magic away from her

away from me.

I'm forced to write apologies
that aren't even mine
just so the words will be stored
somewhere,
a canyon of sadness I will never
let you visit again.

You liken her body to a wild animal,
her backup dancers the same.
You say how big the dress makes her
to somehow excuse yourself,
placing blame on a fabric that chooses
to love every ravine, every valley.
You mutter under your breath
about the width of her thighs

her thighs = my thighs

You once held these limbs
up toward the stars and I never
wanted to leave my Neverland;
I thought you'd at least
want to hold all parts of me

no matter the density
of the constellation I became.

You watched me grow

How many times did you
shame me in silence?

How many times did I
misplace trust in you?

How many times
will you demand that you're
still a decent enough man?

After all,
derogatory remarks are only
directed to women who
aren't your daughter

so to be your daughter,

I swallow the fantasy
that these are just stilted
good intentions

because I know fairytales aren't
real

and heroes aren't made
from fatherly arms.