#48: Naked Soul-

I sat there,

Naked,

Barefaced,

And hoping that old bruises wouldn’t alarm you,

Old scars spoke too soon,

Singing a sad tale of years I spent searching for you,

The latest bruise still wept,

And the band aid I had used and reused,

Slid off as I,

 

With fragmented sentences,

Tried my best to explain why barring my soul,

In its entirety,

Had become just as hard as childbirth,

Just as scary as facing the barrel of a gun,

 And just as empty as the pursuit of fame and happiness,

 

At the end of my monologue,

In between a shield of tears,

I waited for an answer,

Fully prepared to hear the worst,

You drew in closer,

And gave me a blanket,

The sweetest gesture I could ever know,

To a girl who had just bared her naked soul.

 

©Aisha Nicole 2013

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