Neighbors

“Now my neighbor likes my clothes, But hadn’t seen me with my scars exposed, My neighbor!! My neighbor!! Myyyyy neighbor, ohhh dissatisfied My neighbor!! My neighbor’s, behavior… is unjustified I’m sick and tired” Gnarles Barkley

If I could be anything I’d be a flower. My petals would glisten so brightly after the morning dew. The wind may whip me back and forth but my stems would be strong. People would want to pick me because of my beauty, and my thorns would hinder their selfish actions. Time after time, as I stand, my presence would incite passion, smiles of contentment, would banish sorrow, encourage desire, and predict declarations of love.

If I could be anything I’d be a dancer. My limbs would flex to the moves of Alvin Ailey to Paul Taylor. My every step would sway to the beat of African drums. I’d swirl around in a contagious melody of graceful glides and captivating glances. Even the turn of my head would be infectious. You would look longingly, and think simply… beautiful.

If I could be anything I’d be an athlete. My every swing an RBI. My every step a jingling jog of swift movements and ample suave. I could out run you even if they extended the football field by 800 yards. I could out stoke you even if the volley ball was an anvil. I could out swim you while a shark hunted my scent and the current propelled me in another direction. With the thighs and butt of a marathon runner, the delicate stroll of a ballerina, the long frame of a swimmer, and muscles of a baller; my very appearance would stun, shock, and cause envy.

If I could be anything I’d be a harlot. My services would render you speechless. You’d question the very elements of your existence after the pangs of desire wan. You’d pander, steal, kill for the very whisper of my fingertips stroking your arm. You’d crave the soft caresses of my eyelashes as I give butterfly kisses up your body. You’d defend my name, clamour for my attention, and despair of my ever leaving your side. My price… unmatched, indescribable, incomparable.

If I could be anything I’d be a bathrobe. The terry cotton cloth that gives comfort beyond measure. The journey from preshower, after shower, thunder storms, break ups, cry fests… would outlast any relationship ever entered. My smell would induce memories spaning generations. Every wash brings immeasurable joy. Though torn and raggedy, you couldn’t bear to part from it’s warmth.

If I could be anything I’d be a battle wound. A scar representing courage, honor, viligance. Noticeable enough to make the crowd question and appluad the bravery. The would anticipate my very survival of any element. Medals and awards would be named in awe of the massive attack that massacred many… but the disfigurement would stand alone and proclaim the necessity of due diligence and perserverance. A brand that can withstand anything.

If I could be anything I’d be a writer. Word after word after word charging forth from pen to page. The fundamentals of wit, intrigue, romance, suspense flowing from every page; devoured avidly by readers across the world. Words that needed now translation across lanugages because their signifigance is self manifested. The razor slices, the heart beats, the leafs fall and yet the letters become alive from quill to pot and back again.

If I could be anything… I’d be me. Happy 23rd Birthday!

(Written on/around/about/3-8)

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