Show me what you’re made of;
I’m not interested in air-brushed thighs
or botox smile
or cookie-cutter glamour.
I want to know what’s underneath,
where thoughts hatch dreams,
where secrets light your eyes.
Beneath the skin,
between the ribs,
where life-blood pounds
in veins of glass.
show me what you’re made of,
so I can let my mask fall,
that will leave us
Mummy really likes this! There is a sort of blunt honesty to it. Very clever images.
Nibbles, Nutty, Buddy & Basil
Aw, thanks guys! 🙂 Sorry I haven’t been around lately – as soon as I can spare the time, I’ll pop round again for a visit!
Love your musings today Melody. You are absolutely a prolific poet! Thanks for the inspiration.
Thank you Glenda!
Good, point your finger squarely at an issue we only speak around.
Time to drop the masks!
Yup. Never back away from the tough stuff.
Hmm – I think I needed to hear that affirmation today. Thanks!
We all do, Melody. I preach to myself here.
Then let him (or her) who has ears to hear, hear…. 🙂
So be it, Melody. So be it…
I love this one for a bunch of reasons!