you don't quite fit
slightly askew
yet, relatable.

I see You.
A person revealing herself to a soceity of weak wolves
You are curious; a truth-seeker
asking questions that make others squirm
You have a deep desire to connect through expression
a need to be seen
You wish for transparcy paired with acceptance
You want to tear yourself open and scream "Look!"
"This is Me! Please, see Me!"
"In all my beauty and in all my ugliness. This, is, Me. Unfiltered. Naked"
"Please, please accept me."
I know this because it is
Relatable.

Relatable. The only way you would know this
is if I told you.
For I have found a way to blend in with the wolves.
I hide behind a careful wall built of cloth and filth.
You can only see Me when and where I allow it.

My face is usually in plain view, for society has told me this is OK.
(Ironic that is my only bit of skin that can change expression, unwillingly)

My other skin is hidden by clothe that I willingly bear.
A winter coat and gloves for the environment unknown.
(possibly hostile. it's better not to risk exposure)
A T-shirt and jeans for the familar
(stragically covering vunerabilities)
A bathing suite only for the most trusted

And naked? Rarely do I allow this, even around myself.
Because when I am naked all I see is the bruises from past abuses.
When I opened myself up and was rejected
Rejected by society and myself.

All the bruises bring me to bear cloth
But I will sincrely root for those who walk around
Naked.

A few weeks out and I still feel
Nothing
I was told it was it was going to hit
But I'm not convinced it ever
will.

A few years ago I thought I felt
"I love you"
When it rolled through your mouth into mine
But, I'm not convinced it ever
tasted right.

A few months ago I was
Broken
I thought deeply, felt terribly, and wrote often
But I'm not convinced it ever
Had to do with you.

A few moments ago I had
Written nothing
For you
And even this poem feels.
forced.

In all my poem reading,
I haven't been able to relate to a love poem.

Until tonight,
I always thought the writers were exaggerating.

Yet, this feeling of connection is remarkable.
I suppose I would need a strange poem to describe it,
too.

I wish she knew
the power of her smile
the magic in her touch
and the significance of the times we spent together

I wish she knew
the true meaning of the gifts
the influence she has on me
and the reason I’m always there

I wish she knew…

Do you not see your greatness-
          Your beauty, that radiates from your smile?
Do you not understand that others look at you
          and see far deeper than you can with a mirror?
I know you don't think much of yourself,
         and I know you don't believe others kindness,
But there are people who think the world of you;
          so the next time you feel the doubt, the uncertainty
          weighing you down,
Remember:
          my belief in you exceeds the stars.

Stuck with you
You and your faults
But, I still love you

Torture and Resentment
A usual thing to see from you

You tell me my mistakes
And how I'm broken

I still don't know
Why we're still together...

I still love you

I am not a poet but the thoughts about you are poetry.