My hard work is paying off.  I feel the throb of optimism. Writing has brought me face to face with my insecurities, lost, a voice lost among the many others also hoping to be read. In my old world, people paid for my advice. This poem is a frivolous look what writing has taught me so far.If you love cheese, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the metaphor.

Cheese

when I woke up

my inner self said

I am a cheese

okay I said, a cheese

maybe it’s all those winter eves

long dark and cold

sharing a red with a friend

eating cheese, maybe

I thought about cheese

creamy camembert, blissful brie

chatty cheddar, sensuous swiss

cheese has holes

I run my finger around

the hole in my Jarlsberg

a smooth hidden cavity

like me, I thought

I am of loose weave

a dreamer, a leaf

thoughts inspire me

taking me here and there

I can be light

exuberant beyond measure

eyes shining, sharing

my new-found world

at times anger comes

flashing and slashing

silencing the voice of reason

anger’s righteous not right

there are holes

dark places, mostly veiled

home to the me

I don’t like

I stand there

looking, wondering what’s in there

and why I’m so scared

to look

is it the darkness?

is it the feelings?

I can’t see

but will my eyes adjust?

what would happen if

I walked through the veil

and stood there, looking?

what would I see about me?

yes, I am a cheese

holes in my psyche

I am work in progress

on the road to self-love

Can you relate? Leave a comment.