Naked

Here I am.
Naked in front of you.
With every flaw, and every imperfection bare.

Tell me, dear lover,
What do you see?
The scars? The freckles?
The transparent paleness of a haunted lover thrown from a cliff in despair?
A poet whose words and magic fill an emptiness long thought to be inevitable?

You, dear lover, mein herr, mein liebe,
You, see me,
In me,
Through me.

I am naked.
Take me as you will, for I shall not protest.
I am wholly and completely yours and I
Begin to feel that emptiness fill.

Me: the one whom floats on the winds of anonymity
And whom changes identities as the chameleon changes its colors.

Strip me bare and tell me my sickest desires.
For I am nothing, and no one.
Another soul occupying an endless existence in which we survive, by chance,
On this circular mound of earth in a never-ending space-time continuum.

I am nothing, we are nothing,
But to me, you are everything.

I am as a child,
Incomplete and undefined
And yet you say this is a bad thing,
As I try to remain tethered to this earth.

Silly boy. What more exciting than
A broken toy in which to mold?
To create?
To build into the perfect toy from the ground up;
Whose only desire is to please you?

Yet you command I develop a sense of self,
A sense of identification in which I am me
And not what I think everyone wants me to be.

Perhaps a technique of self perseverance;
A technique of survival,
To not be a real person and instead
Adapt to the environment around me.

For if I were to become a real girl,
I would gain a sense of stability in this unstable world
And what if you were to tire of this broken toy?
And toss me aside as the traveling enigma I am?

What shall I do then, dear savior?

What shall I do should I be a complete and whole person
And not as flighty as the raven whom warns his Master of imminent danger?

I would have to place complete and utter faith in you, mein herr,
As my anchor to this disillusioned world
And not question the what if’s of reality.
Not escape into never-never land and hide amongst the lost boys,
Wishing for a fairy and her magic dust to give me the wings I need to fend for myself.

My dearest; you hold the key to my soul
And my heart
And my body
And mind
And I’m supposed to simply trust you to take care of me.

I suppose that’s fair.

For if you were to toss me aside
Like the shattered mirror which defines your luck for the next seven years,
You would only prove me right
In my everlasting desire to prove that I am unlovable.
Unworthy of love;
Of your love.

But what if, by some small chance,
By some small miracle of a god that doesn’t exist,
You were to prove me wrong?
And take care of this fragile doll so carefully perched
Upon your shelf?
Take care to dress your doll, fix your doll;
Have your doll give you complete faith and trust
And take heed not to abuse her?

What would happen to that everlasting desire to prove myself unlovable?
What would take its place?
What would I become indignant over now?

If not for the ability to self-righteously sit up in bed
And scream at the top of my naked lungs
How I knew you didn’t love me;
How I knew you would leave me and give up on me.

Such a selfish creature chameleon’s can be,
Especially me.
Especially one who’s had to focus on her own desires and wants
And not ever had someone she believed would put what’s best for her
In front of her
And make her confront these.

But I digress.
Because here I am,
Standing in front of you
As naked as the winter snow at the break of dawn,
Before anything has spoiled the pure white fallen flakes.

And I’ll put my faith in you,
And I’ll give you my heart, mind, and body.
But please remember, dearest lover,
I am made of nothing more than air,
And I pray you can anchor me here.

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