There's a naked that shrugs at my moles
And then lovingly pats at the holes
That were drilled when I asked them to tie
Up my tubes and then simply not try
To imagine a little one after the two
that were already gracing our lives.

There's a naked that sees where I've bled
and the burns from emergency bread
that I baked when I needed a slice
just to drown out a feeling, quite nice
Of surrendering to the
temptation of running away.

There's a naked that loves me for me
when I'm too tired to look down to see
That my fingers aren't painted,
and toes are still tainted
with green from the grass
That I mowed before hubby got home.

There's a naked that brings me to tears
When the tension from all of my fears
is then lifted by hands that still know
That I'm never to grown up to grow
Oh the pleasure of drifting away
when he holds me as I fall asleep.

There's a naked that laughs in the dark
When I feel that familiar spark
of the love that I sealed with a vow
So I reach out and savor the now
As he holds and caresses
each beautiful part of my world.

Not really late,
but late enough to feel disembodied
from the person I am,
from the person I want to be,
from the person others want me to be.

Another person in the night,
who itches with longing
to live for herself,
to live for more than show,
to live for just the moment.

I can't scratch this itch,
It tingles deep beneath the surface
to be the one who rings true,
to be the one who feels calm,
to be the one I truly am.

You're like the shiny red apple,
picked for its outward perfection.
Sliced open, rotten,
with the grainy leftovers
of a worm quite comfortable
to be flying incognito in your heart.  
Whitewashed tomb,
with decay at your core.

A glance toward the clouds,
Eyes willing the pregnant sky to burst,
To shower life onto the barren earth,
The dry places of her heart.
Places in need of refreshment,
Of the baby leaf green of the new,
Rain. Come. Now.