the art of being spoiled

They call it luck.

I call it knowing my worth.

I wear the crown because I chose it,

not because anyone handed it to me.

Flowers fade.

Trinkets gather dust.

But there’s something delicious about generosity

that asks for nothing in return but a smile.

He grins as I pick out another little luxury,

cheering me on like he always does.

Confidence looks good on me.

So do new boots, fresh tattoos,

and a life built exactly the way I want it.

A queen doesn’t apologize for being spoiled.

She simply says,

“Thank you,”

and enjoys the view.