Eve Bit the Apple

Who am I betraying with this untethered voice?
Parents, siblings, lovers gone by—
are they praying my ink-well has run dry?

I’m the wandering storyteller,
a raconteur seeking shared reflection
mirrored in our dysfunction.

I’m your fencing partner,
shunned for sharp-tongued infractions,
piercing the veil of coming attractions.

How dare I disclose your secrets—
raw, tawdry,
bone-chilling revelations.

Who am I betraying with this authentic voice?
Esteemed writers practicing persistence—
do they even notice my existence?

I’m a late bloomer,
genius just now breaking through.
A poet with heart.

Poet, pundit, visionary—
how dare I claim my inheritance,
shredding convention,
unchaperoned to the party.

Who am I betraying with this boundless voice?
A social web of peacemakers,
relying on me
to make nice?
I’ve been invisible—
camouflaged by the collective veil,
a translucent attaché attending life as
introvert, contemplative, inaudible.
How dare I speak out, fearlessly,
without endorsement,
noisy, brazen, combative,
uncensored by myself.

Who am I betraying with this sovereign voice?
Parishes of priestesses—
do they need me
to stay sober?
I am the levelheaded one,
sensible leader by proxy.
An innocuous woman who bans
intoxication on life itself.
How dare I imbibe, rebel,
pissing on
holy limitations, social utopia,
spiritual ushers.

Who am I betraying with this untamed voice?
Cocooned little darlings whisper,
“It’s cold out there.”
I am the loyal one,
gatekeeper of my comfort zone,
a sanctuary of emotions fortified by
squishy cushions and homemade quilts.
How dare I brandish keys once again,
opening portals to
unruly expression, rebellious stories,
imagination.