There’s security
in only allowing others to see you at your best
Made up
well-dressed.
But pale, sickly
Lip bloodied
Feels too raw,
My image sullied.
What could be better than to remain
at a safe distance
a curated image
untouched.
You might be anything exciting in their mind
But too far away from their arms
No real connection can warm.
So when I was crying on the balcony and you asked
“Why won’t you let me hold you?”
The honesty and boldness
Stunned
Gutted
But the response too complex to be uttered.
Eternal Ocean of Words 