To the Love Gods

I guess I am writing today in hopes of manifesting…

I am not going to yearn for love like I normally would've.

I won’t even crave the affection from another, or the validation.

What I want to manifest is self-love.

The same unconditional, devoted love I have given to others,

be poured into myself tenfold.

I want to have the luxury and the freedom

to be financially independent and sexually confident.

That I can pursue the things my heart desires

and no longer live paycheck to paycheck.

I want to travel around the world—

freely and consistently.

I want men to pour into me financially.

They cannot help themselves; from the richest to the mediocre.

I want men with stability

to see me as a prize, something to earn, to win.

The fight for my attention.

I want to get flowers just because.

Just because I am beautiful.

Just because I exist.

I want my existence to be a spell of abundance.

When people see me, money flows.

When people want me, confidence grows.

When they envy me, my beauty multiplies.

When they crave me, love me,

I elevate.

I will be the definition of rags to riches

on the sole propriety of existence.

When people speak my name, my nickname, my artist’s name, my performance name—

it sits on their tongue like a spell,

and in their mind like a curse,

keeping the loop alive so it forever feeds into my abundance, my beauty,

my self-worth, my love.

I am already a devotee to Santa Muerte,

and from her I will never stray.

This letter, this spell, this prayer

does not go to her today.

This letter goes to the Love Gods,

the ones who only help when you are at your lowest,

the ones who will only help if it is meant to better you,

if it is meant to be for yourself.

I know I am not supposed to be working 9–5

and living in poverty.

I know my voice, my beauty, my wisdom, my looks—

are not meant to keep me in the mundane.

And for this, I dedicate this letter.

I know you have been watching, waiting…

Please do what you do best.

𖤐 ✦ 𖠷 ✦ 𖤐