It still scares me. The thought of being laid down by loving hands, gazing up at kind and gentle eyes. To feel safe in the arms of a long-ago stranger with a heartbeat now familiar as my own. I am mortified to undress and not hide this skin. To not hate these marks, fearing they will make you uncomfortable. It still scares me to trust the words of ones I love. They would never mean any harm, but humans are faulted. Flawed at heart. There simply is nothing to be said for the wounds healed by salted tears. So I stray from your line of sight. Believe me, this is for your own good. Veer from the possibilities of infinite. This ache is no more than a temporary glimmer of what used to be called hope. An abandoned carnival, full of stories and ghosts hoping to find belonging. I am always taunted by the dark. Even if I still may call it home. Won't you come in? My doors are wide open. I can promise you sight and glory. I can promise forever and mean it too, but beware of my empty promises. A beautiful painting. Won't you come and see my mismatch of watered-down colors? Only those daring to lose all have seen my oceanic storms. Please come closer. It still scares me, but won't you? Come, won't you play haunted house with me?