#hate-armour

I will never get naked for someone.

I’ll blame it on not wanting to give into lust, wanting to grasp oh so tight onto my innocence… I’ll stare into the eyes of my lover until all he sees is a small child in front of him, unable to give up their small plush teddy bear. What I won’t tell him though is how I’ve dreamt of this moment day in and day out, how I picked out my lingerie that morning daydreaming this exact scenario. But when faced with the cruel reality of my bittersweet fantasies, stripping naked is more than shown skin. Through each curve of my body I can feel my soul slipping out, thoughts I fight so hard to hide start to whisper their way into the ear of my beloved, I watch with expectant eyes as he devours me whole yet my heart stops at the thought of me afterwards. I’m a cake and he’ll have eaten me and I’m so, so scared that after seeing the perplexity of my being, he’ll still have an inclination to leave. He can’t..can he ? I won't let someone see all of me and still walk away, know every cruel thought of mine and not feel absolutely infatuated by me. It goes further than a fear of abandonment- who cares if he leaves, as long as he doesn’t know me fully ? My fear stretches deep into my core, into the values of my being. Who am I, if not unforgettable ? I cannot answer and that is why, I will not face a reality in which that is the truth. I will not strip- for seeing myself is worse than facing any monster. Instead I will protect myself in armour built of hate, loathing for love and vulnerability- a hate so strong that the armour will etch into my skin until the chance of someone seeing me naked is completely null.