“Ask yourself, “If I were me…” what would that look like? Who are you really? Have you lost yourself in being a mother, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, father?”
Credit: Toa Heftiba via Unsplash
Ask for the world, typify me,
Take advantage or carve my insides;
I’ve chosen to take, the high road, to believe —
To have faith.
Not to see, things not there.
To reveal the truth,
Even though, curiosity may kill me.
But I’ll be damned if I don’t configure the puzzle pieces;
I’m a writer, I love a good mystery.
So, weave me a tale and I’ll unbind it thread by thread;
Only to see it’s trembling core, where light reveals the mayhem.
I wish for sunlight, carved tables with Zinfandel,
A place to write, you next to me;
No suffocation, no squeezing in my chest,
My liberty not at stake.
Complications, deviations, things I never expected;
Truth and disbelief collide as dynamite splashes.
I am the wind, I am the great detective,
No laudanum needed to dull the senses or to dream.
I am the Amazon and I am Alice,
Slipping back into Wonderland.
And I’ve discovered that beneath facades,
Can lie a beast with scales and teeth.
Slithering, slick, slime of rust,
Questionable creature, Adam’s fall —
Eve’s mistrust; and if I can’t have all the details,
Assemble words into some order,
My decisions might break not only I,
But lives lie in the balance.
One who needs, so I must give,
Because my Lord said give all you can;
And even if you’re wrong,
Heaven will be your table in the sunlight,
Where you can write and find tranquility:
The ambience of love.
If I Were Me,
For she is constantly moulded,
Her Creator’s hands her safety net.
©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.