Imitation

I’m no model lady. A model’s just an imitation of the real thing. ~ Mae West

Sincere flattery,
so they say.
She admires me,
wants what I have —
but not in the right way,
the recovery way.
She wants my life
and not like the folk who say
I wish I had his car
and he had something better.
Like a copy-cat game,
a mimic, an echo.
How do I stay on my street side
if she’s on it with me?
How do I evict her
from my life?
Am I selfish to think this,
she’s obsessing on me?
But my gut sees imitation.
Not purposeful, maybe,
but real. Give me back my life.
God’s telling me it’s not my job
to tell the world the truth.
It’s my job to be the truth.
Who wouldn’t want what I have?