Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

I’m Not God, But I’m Still Good

Hey, it’s me, God,

boundless black curls, blue scarf bent into a bow,

silver chains swinging low,

bouncing on my breasts as I take a few steps towards you.

She told you I was on the way,

a puff of pretty, pink cigarette smoke,

and I appeared, like a witchy mermaid,

who was never made for the Earth, but made the trip, especially for you.

We pray together, as I praise myself for being brave enough to unveil myself,

and yes, it’s a lie,

I didn’t come from the sky,

and I am not omnipotent,

but Mamacita,

I’m militant when I’m in love,

to the moon, back, and up to surround the stars again.

I know you heard from her,

about this aching need inside of you,

and the key that would come,

opening every door, even the ones you cannot see,

and I’ve got a funny feeling it was me,

because I’m a narcissist, and also,

I’m a little bit psychic.

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