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Come close. Closer than comfort allows. Not with your eyes — with your breath, Let it graze the edge of my truth. I stand in armor that fits like skin, Shimmering, seamless, hard to touch. You think you know me from what you see — But you only know my outside much. My strength sits tailored around my hips, My brave fastened tight at my chest. I move like I’m steady, like nothing slips — Like every scar has already been blessed. But press your ear to the quiet of me, Listen where silence runs deep. There’s a trembling rhythm you’ll barely see — A heart that still learns how to sleep. Beneath this metal, beneath this show, Where daylight never quite dares — My body remembers what people don’t know, Soft and alive in my underwear. Like lace holding stories against my skin, Like cotton absorbing my cries, That’s where the war truly lives within — Hidden behind polished eyes. You see my smile — clean, composed, sincere — You think it means I’m repaired. But lean in close… can you feel the fear Still breathing under what I wear? My scars are intimate — they know my scent, They curve with every breath I take. They whisper of nights I was nearly spent, And mornings I forced myself awake. I don’t wear them loud on my outer face — I keep them close, warm, and bare. Tucked in the sacred, private place Where no one looks — but they’re there. Touch my silence — feel it shake, Feel how fragile it can be. Real strength is not what I make — It’s what I let you see in me. Because I am not only steel or flame, Not only bold or unafraid. I am trembling, tender, carrying shame — And still choosing light I made. I break. I bleed. I burn. I mend. I fall to my knees and rise again. Half-armored. Half-open. Half-held by air. Whole in my heart — even when I’m bare. So don’t love the armor and miss the skin, Don’t worship the shine and ignore the tear. If you walk gently enough within — You’ll find your own wounds waiting there. Because we are all soft somewhere, All hiding pain we rarely share. We are fire, fear, love, and prayer — Human, hurting, healing — Under what we wear. And even stripped down, bruised and aware, I rise from the ruin that lived back there. Steel on the surface — alive, laid bare — Unbreakable, breathing Under what I wear.
0
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 11:31 AM UTC
Under What I Wear
Come close. Closer than comfort allows. Not with your eyes — with your breath, Let it graze the edge of my truth. I stand in armor that fits like skin, Shimmering, seamless, hard to touch. You think you know me from what you see — But you only know my outside much. My strength sits tailored around my hips, My brave fastened tight at my chest. I move like I’m steady, like nothing slips — Like every scar has already been blessed. But press your ear to the quiet of me, Listen where silence runs deep. There’s a trembling rhythm you’ll barely see — A heart that still learns how to sleep. Beneath this metal, beneath this show, Where daylight never quite dares — My body remembers what people don’t know, Soft and alive in my underwear. Like lace holding stories against my skin, Like cotton absorbing my cries, That’s where the war truly lives within — Hidden behind polished eyes. You see my smile — clean, composed, sincere — You think it means I’m repaired. But lean in close… can you feel the fear Still breathing under what I wear? My scars are intimate — they know my scent, They curve with every breath I take. They whisper of nights I was nearly spent, And mornings I forced myself awake. I don’t wear them loud on my outer face — I keep them close, warm, and bare. Tucked in the sacred, private place Where no one looks — but they’re there. Touch my silence — feel it shake, Feel how fragile it can be. Real strength is not what I make — It’s what I let you see in me. Because I am not only steel or flame, Not only bold or unafraid. I am trembling, tender, carrying shame — And still choosing light I made. I break. I bleed. I burn. I mend. I fall to my knees and rise again. Half-armored. Half-open. Half-held by air. Whole in my heart — even when I’m bare. So don’t love the armor and miss the skin, Don’t worship the shine and ignore the tear. If you walk gently enough within — You’ll find your own wounds waiting there. Because we are all soft somewhere, All hiding pain we rarely share. We are fire, fear, love, and prayer — Human, hurting, healing — Under what we wear. And even stripped down, bruised and aware, I rise from the ruin that lived back there. Steel on the surface — alive, laid bare — Unbreakable, breathing Under what I wear.
#underwhatiwear#anonymousflame#phoenixpoetry#armorandskin#hiddenscars#softbutstrong#intimatetruth#bareandbrave#traumatotriumph#healinginprocess
Anonymous_Flame
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Anonymous_Flame
35
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 11:31 AM UTC
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