Show Me What You’re Made Of

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,

autumn defoliation

that will leave us

au naturel.

13 comments on “Show Me What You’re Made Of

  1. Anonymous says:

    Mummy really likes this! There is a sort of blunt honesty to it. Very clever images.

    Nibbles, Nutty, Buddy & Basil

  2. Glenda Mills says:

    Love your musings today Melody. You are absolutely a prolific poet! Thanks for the inspiration.

  3. Robert Rife says:

    Good, point your finger squarely at an issue we only speak around.

  4. Caddo Veil says:

    I love this one for a bunch of reasons!

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