One day I was flipping through some notes only to have this poem that I wrote in 2019 jump out at me. The poem doesn’t require any introduction though I hope you enjoy it.
Please like and/or comment below so I know I’m not the only one who has such thoughts. Thanks all. Here it is:
uninvited guest the reflection doesn’t lie as I fluff my hair. flip. spin to see the ten I knew was there I look damn fine. all in place together. feeling Confident. Strong. Ready. to face anything. I got this. the world is mine amongst the masses is perfection its not me but i fake fortitude I exist within my bubble of all knowing feigned oblivion until i'm shrouded in the toxicity of weighty stagnant reacquaintance. i smell her first. sour. sweaty. needy. probably more than a little bit drunk. then i see her. nails bit to the quick. smudged mascara. unshaven pits. dollar store lipstick greasy and cheap just like her she wasn't invited on this date. how'd she get in? i swear i locked her away. grappled like a bitch to secure the feeble latches. but here she is in all her glittery fucking splendor waiting patiently in the wings for my attention. waving. anxious for the nod. for permission to come along. i purposely turn away she's an intruder. unwelcome. i want her gone but she clings. her caustic razor sharp claws dig in and find their hold. i cringe. deflate. her name is insecurity and she wants to tag along like a bothersome little sister who regurges lies or is it truths? fills voids with doubts. hesitancy. she nags, yanks, and clutches at me until there's no fight left. i cave in i let her come. she's elated. the incessant relentless loop of chitter chatter begins. i don't belong. my hair is flat. a ten- hell maybe a four, on a good day whispered postulations abound i’m too fat, this dress is hideous no one likes me. such a loser. hideous. can't do anything right. i'm so stupid. sometimes i dont know why i bother? tomorrow. ill look at tomorrow by faye e arcand
Yep … insecurity … I’m sure we all relate to this … I know I do.
Well done Feye. You need to start colling yourself a poet. You might not use that form a lot, but in this you have shown you know how to let the passion take the words.
Well done. (A feel ya.)
Wow! Thank you such kind words. To call myself a poet? Wow with that coming from you, I’m honored. Thank you so much. How about if I promise to try. So glad you stopped by MaryGrace. I think you just made my day. oxox
I am glad I stoped in too. Well worth it. ❤
Humbled. Thank you. xoxo