I am firstborn.

A lab-grown experiment of love.

My mother's image a replica of mine.

I can see it in her eyes;

The familiarity.

But I was born with my father's soul.

Keep that in mind.

My opinions lie clenched on the threshold of my lips.

Like cliffhangers, I am always near a cliff.

Breathe…

I'll give you the honesty you desire.

My truth never behind closed doors;

Just held loosely on my tongue.

Laces of salivated passion only 

drops away from being told.

I am honest, but not bold. 

Keep that in mind. 

While my words lie flat on paper. 

They hold no tongue. 

No barrier to stop what’s bound to be sung.

As loud as the opera's final note. 

People's ears are french kissed by my symphony. 

Open-mouthed 

No tongue. 

Keep that in mind. 

When you see me down the street.

Round cheeks and short stature.

You say she’s gotta be no more than 15.

But I know my artwork's aged wine completion 

hasn’t reached your eyes.

A reflection of Picasso so mature. 

You’ll have to believe I was born in 2005.

Keep that in mind.

I’m a woman worthy to be loved.

A woman valued like a mothers first born should be.

A gift from the three disciples.

Buttered in angles feathered wings. 

I am a woman who’s been on your mind 

as long as it took you to read this last line.

Keep that in mind.