but had very few metaphors for it
I lost all analogies ten years ago
when I
lost my innocence when
the naive rose colored glasses vanished
the minute

she walked in with that swaying
gait, the all knowing confidence
of a thing on a mission
hardly hiding the sly
demeanor
nor ever meaning to

then she was all
all I saw day or night, I sold my front
door for twenty minutes
with her smile in my lap and her hand in
my pocket picking the lock

I knew what she was meaning
to do, gave a wide corridor
for her to walk through
her street cred  made
me stealthy from myself.

In all I cannot complain, I laid myself
vulnerable, wide assed open for
the viper to slither
around my culpabilities.
Wherein lies the moral.

Keep your metaphors
close as your tool
in your pocket safe
and your similes
hid.

More better yet, hide
in naivette your jewels.