This Heart of Gold

I wake up golden –
a Midas that has learned to love herself
so thoroughly she glows
in the midday sun.

With these hands,
I do not want for anything.
In fact, everything I touch
turns into more than enough;
so much so my pockets brim with it,
and has caused the world call me
selfish.

Still, I have not hoarded my beauty –
welcomed many past the gilded doors of my heart.
What do they want?
Devastation when they refuse to enter?
Or a woman who forgets her own worth
when they try to tell her she is nothing?

There is only happiness here,
and if that’s selfish,
I’m not sorry.
I would do it all again –
even if it meant holding the hands
of those who wanted me to believe
my power was nothing more than connection –
their skin
and my skin
sparking.

How I wish then I could’ve seen myself
years later standing alone,
the halcyon sea closing at my feet,
and a bright, warm light embracing me.

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