i will make art
for myself.

i won't
stuff it in
my glovebox
and leave it to
gather dust,
forgotten.

i will frame it
put it on the mantle,
i will think of myself
every time i walk
past it.

i will pick myself
a bouquet
of wildflowers

i will not
shove them in a
drawer, deprived
of light,
left to wilt.
i will put them in
a vase on
my windowsill,
i will cut the stems,
change the water
intermittently,
i will admire them
from afar.

i will give myself
the love i gave
so easily to you.
i will nourish
admire
encourage
and nurture
my own spirit.

i will appreciate myself
for it, far more than
you ever appreciated
me