MRS. JONES

Mrs. Jones

A Spoken Word Poem

Mrs. Jones…

See, I been studying women my whole life,

but loving you taught me the language.

Not the words —

the pauses,

the sighs,

the way emotions move through a woman

like weather through a sky.

How a storm can mean she cares,

how quiet can mean she’s carrying too much,

how tears ain’t weakness —

they’re release,

they’re truth,

they’re the heart speaking out loud.

And Lord knows…

I learned why it takes y’all so long to get ready.

Because a woman ain’t just putting on clothes —

she’s stepping into her power.

She’s adjusting her crown.

She’s making sure the world sees

what I already know:

that she is art,

and beauty takes time.

But you…

you been my lesson,

my blessing,

my mirror,

my muse.

Two decades in,

and our love done grown roots so deep

they touch the bones of the earth.

We done stretched,

healed,

fought,

forgave,

and built something

that don’t shake in the wind.

And every time we come together,

every time we hold each other close,

it feels like the first time —

not because it’s new,

but because it’s us.

Because we keep choosing each other

with the same fire,

the same hunger,

the same devotion

that started this whole story.

But let me be clear…

no other woman could ever compare.

Not in thought,

not in spirit,

not in the quiet places of the soul.

Because I’m in love with you

from the inside out —

your mind,

your body,

your soul,

your laughter,

your strength,

your softness,

your storms,

your sunshine.

All of it.

All of you.

Mrs. Jones…

If love had a lifetime guarantee,

I’d still ask for the extended warranty.

Because even after “death do us part,”

I’d find you.

I’d choose you.

I’d love you again

in whatever world comes next.

Two decades down,

forever to go.

And I’m still here,

still learning you,

still loving you,

still thanking God

that you’re mine.

Mrs. Jones…

This poem is just the echo.

You’re the reason.