Self Portrait

Self Portrait

Maligned, restrained, stripped, beaten, battered my words were ignored chatter. Ugly didn’t matter. Ceased to speak up for it was wasted breath. Writing resuscitated me. Delve deep into my journal; find my fragments in fiction. Settings described may be under a guise but know for a fact my soul has once been there. Heroines are mostly me or wishes to be molded into. Made-up lovers have a single unique ingredient combined to create a recipe of perfection but truth is, the benevolence of those bonds were never broken.

Refuse to use the pen or tritely type the present Love of my life, for he is one of God’s greatest masterpieces. Words do not do him justice. Sentences are shackles. It would be sinful to search for descriptive synonyms, so just let language lay at his feet to worship him.
Will not minimize our Love making into stanzas to provide pseudo passion for plagiarists. Our poems dare to be compared to the Songs of Solomon and the Psalms that recall then redefine Love to be recited as prayers. Etched our wedding vows and named our children yet to be conceived in the margins of this teaching text.

So others will learn from my lessons that life is still beautiful.
© Michele Mitchell, 2013
Writing Prompt: Creative Non Fiction 11/7/13

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