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#nakedness
I learned to dim the light in me, to starve the urge to softly be the girl who once would stand and glow for no one’s eyes– just her own soul. I used to trace my face with care, not out of need, not out of fear, but like a secret, tender art, a quiet language of the heart. But something shifted in the glass– it watched me change, it let me pass through rules that tightened, slow and thin, until they settled on my skin. Now every flaw begins to speak, in tones that make me feel too weak– pigmented shadows, scattered scars, like constellations stripped of stars. Dark under-eyes that will not fade, a tired truth I cannot shade, and still they ask me what is wrong, as if this face does not belong. As if I’m sick. As if I’ve failed. As if my bare self should be veiled. I’m never whole, I’m never right, too dull for day, too raw for night, not polished to their cruel design, not broken enough to cross the line. I want no filter, none to hide, no borrowed glow, no softer side, just this face, this aching core, this self I barely know anymore. And somewhere deep, a voice I knew now trembles, distant, breaking through– a wild thing I can’t set free, a girl I fear I’ll never be. Life lingers heavy in my chest, a silent, ceaseless kind of test, a pull, a whisper, dark and sweet, that drags me gently to defeat. For beauty never was the sin– no, not the light upon the skin– but needing it to feel enough, to earn a love, to soften “rough.” To be desired. To be seen. To be exactly what they mean. And so I stand, undone, unknown– a face that dares to be its own…. yet feels like something left behind, a ghost that walks in borrowed mind. ♡ lil-usagi
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Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 4:07 PM UTC
Bare Face
I learned to dim the light in me, to starve the urge to softly be the girl who once would stand and glow for no one’s eyes– just her own soul. I used to trace my face with care, not out of need, not out of fear, but like a secret, tender art, a quiet language of the heart. But something shifted in the glass– it watched me change, it let me pass through rules that tightened, slow and thin, until they settled on my skin. Now every flaw begins to speak, in tones that make me feel too weak– pigmented shadows, scattered scars, like constellations stripped of stars. Dark under-eyes that will not fade, a tired truth I cannot shade, and still they ask me what is wrong, as if this face does not belong. As if I’m sick. As if I’ve failed. As if my bare self should be veiled. I’m never whole, I’m never right, too dull for day, too raw for night, not polished to their cruel design, not broken enough to cross the line. I want no filter, none to hide, no borrowed glow, no softer side, just this face, this aching core, this self I barely know anymore. And somewhere deep, a voice I knew now trembles, distant, breaking through– a wild thing I can’t set free, a girl I fear I’ll never be. Life lingers heavy in my chest, a silent, ceaseless kind of test, a pull, a whisper, dark and sweet, that drags me gently to defeat. For beauty never was the sin– no, not the light upon the skin– but needing it to feel enough, to earn a love, to soften “rough.” To be desired. To be seen. To be exactly what they mean. And so I stand, undone, unknown– a face that dares to be its own…. yet feels like something left behind, a ghost that walks in borrowed mind. ♡ lil-usagi
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51
How hard it is to bare A fragment of the soul, And easy to show the body, Believing someone might glimpse A doubting hope. They speak of nakedness While hiding every single piece Of the naked soul That holds secret knowledge, Burning or embracing, Depending on its purpose. How many times have you said: “Here I hurt. Here I am, real. Be careful I might fall apart If you move my heart Too strongly.” And how often have you searched for more veils To hide the fissures, So nobody would come To scratch old, unhealed wounds? Yes, we are full of unspoken things, Longing to be recognized Without fear That being seen Could mark the beginning Of our destruction. We open the windows for a while, Then close them completely, Not hearing the thunder, Or the sweet music. Only these naked bodies, Laughing before hungry eyes, While the souls inside Weep Ready to be open.
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Oct 12, 2025
Oct 12, 2025 at 10:59 AM UTC
Nakedness
I want love. You do too, do we all? No, Not me, to you. Apparently, I Don't exist. Do you? I could feel my love That I don't have - This being alone, Wearing the open air Like Nakedness. Vision dressed in Nobody, not even I. Prayers answer every god.
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Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 3:26 PM UTC
A Note to Love
The calm in your eyes on me opens me You lie in me like a long l of love The light has licked you clean it sings of you the glorious song of our years, which bridge everything that separates us and clothes us in differences For us, love is still a thick word of desire, the l that erects when I undress
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Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 3:37 AM UTC
Within the insect screens
My backyard is like the Garden of Eden; Where birds flourish freely, so too do lizards and worms. I find myself opening my doors seemingly,  to welcome the sounds of nature. But it's also to entice me out to the heartwarmingly, tree-lined places where I can hide my faces, And be one, meekly, at first, then more boldly; Naked and brazen, absent of hazing, to sit, listen and write poetry.
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Jan 24, 2025
Jan 24, 2025 at 10:38 PM UTC
Eden
Last line of defense against nakedness Retreat !
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Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 6:54 PM UTC
UNDERWEAR
you have to be with me, naked listen to your heart and undress forget about your heavy stress... it is just us: my huge and thick lust your greedy mouth, everything what we came here for; let's f''k away all of the bore
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May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 11:09 AM UTC
Why Wait?
Tonight There’s nothing bright To warm us on this windy night. So let us not fight But instead use our smite To turn this naked plight Into a cozy ordeal outright.
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Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 1:57 AM UTC
NAKED PLIGHT
This divinity does not come from within these legs The beauty you see comes from my hands Your desperate need to feel the rough patches on my skin My berry shades of scars You haven't seen me yet The nakedness of the blisters on my skin
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Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 11:58 AM UTC
Naked
Ya, finding yourself more naked than you ever fathomed possible... (sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXXIV) So, showr just AFTER midnight, with a sense Of eerie things as lo, the verse' detail Which warns, "curse not the king..." nor in betrayl "...The rich--" ah, whither oh my soul, fr'intents?! Not e'en "...in thy bedchamber:..." wherefore hence? Lo, how "...a bird of [yes!] the air shall [pale Now, dearest me, as] carry [what?! bewail] The voice, and that which hath wings tell--" what hence? "...The matter." O thy secrets! Did I stir Myself to stoop so low, did I? No. Do Not tremble? How a Blue Jay's call as twere Wakes me at dawn. Why did that Scripture cue Me thus so many hours ago in tour? I am not guilty, am I? Or...who knew? 17Mar19b
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Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 5:43 PM UTC
What Were the Secrets of Our Hearts Again?
Reach out your hand, take me into your palms for one second or a minute of the leaking time, listen to the rhythm of my heart from reckless Brahms losing me in the labyrinth that touches me with its eye. Open my heart's buttons to see its full nakedness, loving me as if tomorrow morning you would lose the bets, give him a spark, for his passion to reanimate, making us forget about you, about me, about all our regrets. Take me into that chamber bathing in the nuances of fire, take the body that now is incapable of self-control, let the music in the background comfort my hearing and inspire, waiting until the ice melts in my heart and my soul. Love me with a body that no longer thinks of anything new bearing the mark of an acute and fine sensuality of a dove, enveloped by the appetizing flavour that worries you in this ritual of the pantomime from the game of love. Dare me with your fingers that traces on my shoulders lines that for a few moments are burning me, consuming me with the intensity of the eye that fixes me, it marks me, making me lose the last morsel of my mind, foolishly. I would not resist your spontaneous urge to touch my bust with your penetrating glance or emotions, awakening, letting me be, with a burning temptation that's not extinguishing that crazy lust, nor under the breath of night that would sneak in unconsciously.
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Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
RITUAL OF LUST
I am not what you think I am. Colourful, joyful, laughter and excitement. I am dull, gloomy, serious and calm. I do not find joy in loudness but in stillness I do. I do not find pleasure in pleasing anyone because i cannot even please myself. I am not picture perfect like you see me on pictures but i am raw, a mastering hideous perfectly formed flaw. I do not have the perfect smile because real smiles do not exist in my real world. My body is not what you imagined it to be because it is a skeleton out of it's closet. I am not free as i may seem because i am trapped.   I am trapped in the flamerous and distructive thoughts of mine that are beckering at what i have become. I am so afraid of what i have become, i have become so poisenious to myself. I have become so out of value , i was once a diamond and now i am gravel. I am used as a road for growth for some and a road of example of an expired female to the rest. I am done, i am a dead body with a soul trying to live but soon will be ready to take it's life. There is really no other way to describe myself other than expired, disasterious and into ashes. I am trying so hard to cleanse all my past, my wounds , my flaws but the more i cleanse them the bigger they fluster. Maybe the scars of all the heartbreak i have been through has marked the outside of me. Im fighting a  war with my inner self and outer self. What is outside of me is building the monster in me. The last time i checked what is in the inside brings what is from the outside but in my case it is the total opposite. I feel like my past is haunting me and i see it in my reflection on the mirror. Maybe this is a way of God's punishment to me. For breaking all the laws he breaks my outer self inorder to break my inner self. Day by day i destroy myself by impeckering at what i only succeed in which is my imperfections. The burning gaze i receive from the monster that i see infront of my mirror lurching and mocking at my past written all over my imperfect body. I am haunted, haunted by my thoughts, haunted by my feelings, haunted by my imperfection that is lingered by my haunting past that haunts my future. Maybe this is what i was born for , i was born to be flawless in imperfection. Maybe i was born to be seen as glorious but as soon as they get to know me they realise how into ashes i am. I died, I died the day i lost my morals and i died the day i realised how i will never be good enough. Not good enough for myself and most definetly not good enough for anyone. I am alone once again. I am alone yet i have so many people in my life. But that's the thing, i have many in my "perfect" life that is a living lie and i have myself and only that in the real world of my nakedness and loneliness. Maybe this is it, this is the hell that i was warned about when i was once innocent. I died the day i lost my innocence and i was born again in the life of hell in a cell. My life is a hell in a cell because i am imprisoned. My whole body is marked and outlined by my past. My thoughts of my past mistakes are locked in my brain and not willing to rest until i have no dignity left in me. See what i mean? I am not what you think i am. I am not over my past. I haven't overcome my flaws. I have not found my confidence. And i am not perfect at all and never will be. But with time I will maybe be what i wish i could be and that is perfect in my eyes, unhaunted by my past and set  free by my thoughts.
0
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
Pain demands to be felt
I am not what you think I am. Colourful, joyful, laughter and excitement. I am dull, gloomy, serious and calm. I do not find joy in loudness but in stillness I do. I do not find pleasure in pleasing anyone because i cannot even please myself. I am not picture perfect like you see me on pictures but i am raw, a mastering hideous perfectly formed flaw. I do not have the perfect smile because real smiles do not exist in my real world. My body is not what you imagined it to be because it is a skeleton out of it's closet. I am not free as i may seem because i am trapped.   I am trapped in the flamerous and distructive thoughts of mine that are beckering at what i have become. I am so afraid of what i have become, i have become so poisenious to myself. I have become so out of value , i was once a diamond and now i am gravel. I am used as a road for growth for some and a road of example of an expired female to the rest. I am done, i am a dead body with a soul trying to live but soon will be ready to take it's life. There is really no other way to describe myself other than expired, disasterious and into ashes. I am trying so hard to cleanse all my past, my wounds , my flaws but the more i cleanse them the bigger they fluster. Maybe the scars of all the heartbreak i have been through has marked the outside of me. Im fighting a  war with my inner self and outer self. What is outside of me is building the monster in me. The last time i checked what is in the inside brings what is from the outside but in my case it is the total opposite. I feel like my past is haunting me and i see it in my reflection on the mirror. Maybe this is a way of God's punishment to me. For breaking all the laws he breaks my outer self inorder to break my inner self. Day by day i destroy myself by impeckering at what i only succeed in which is my imperfections. The burning gaze i receive from the monster that i see infront of my mirror lurching and mocking at my past written all over my imperfect body. I am haunted, haunted by my thoughts, haunted by my feelings, haunted by my imperfection that is lingered by my haunting past that haunts my future. Maybe this is what i was born for , i was born to be flawless in imperfection. Maybe i was born to be seen as glorious but as soon as they get to know me they realise how into ashes i am. I died, I died the day i lost my morals and i died the day i realised how i will never be good enough. Not good enough for myself and most definetly not good enough for anyone. I am alone once again. I am alone yet i have so many people in my life. But that's the thing, i have many in my "perfect" life that is a living lie and i have myself and only that in the real world of my nakedness and loneliness. Maybe this is it, this is the hell that i was warned about when i was once innocent. I died the day i lost my innocence and i was born again in the life of hell in a cell. My life is a hell in a cell because i am imprisoned. My whole body is marked and outlined by my past. My thoughts of my past mistakes are locked in my brain and not willing to rest until i have no dignity left in me. See what i mean? I am not what you think i am. I am not over my past. I haven't overcome my flaws. I have not found my confidence. And i am not perfect at all and never will be. But with time I will maybe be what i wish i could be and that is perfect in my eyes, unhaunted by my past and set  free by my thoughts.
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45
Today, I woke up to a flesh fair. Dresses are getting shorter, sometimes there just not there. More cleavage than ideas, more muscles than compassion. More media coverage of 'age appropriate' than how to feed the world! Our bodies are beautiful and nature has hardwired us to know this. But, know that our bodies preceeded our existence, your ***** bone is not taboo! You strip your clothes and strip yourself bare whilst you hide under a 1000 layers. Let's shift focuss from what was always there! Nakedness can save us, if only we were willing to face the cold. Pull on your Wolly jumpers, open your mouth to bare your soul. Weaver a fabric of intimacy, a patchwork connection of trust and honesty. Shed all the ugliness of media gorged, superficial controversy.
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Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
NAKED!
The Man is lying naked. This filthy pavement is his abode. The Man is emaciated and famishing. And he never begs for alms, Proud and conceited. The road is busier than ever. No one takes interest in him. No one catches a glimpse at him. And a few feign not having seen him at all. The time fleets on, the cars move on, The Man is lying naked. At the first blush, far from being a beggar Is the Man. He is well-complexioned with big glamorous eyes. His face is sleek and his hair shines against The lustrous sunbeams. His eyes are gleeful, but mournful is his heart. Penniless though, his craving for gold is sheer. He ogles at the gold brought by the people around. But he never begs for alms, Proud and conceited. Then someone nears him and asks who he is. After much vacillation, he dismisses his taciturnity. “Mankind is my name”, he replies. The time fleets on, the cars move on, The Man is lying naked.
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Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 2:17 AM UTC
Way to Perdition
When autumn comes Trees become exhibitionists Shaking off their clothes Standing proud in the rain The increasing cold Matched by an increasing nakedness While humans plunder wardrobes Nature strips itself off Back to the essence Of what autumn means That Fall is the fall Of the empire of pretense So I cannot pretend And clutch on summer’s façade And hide under the foliage Of warmth and joy I must let the rain Wash away my pretense And I’ll humbly lay myself bare Amidst nature’s nakedness
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Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 5:59 AM UTC
Nakedness
Naked eye, silent sorrounded heart. what's that sound? elderly and ancient crown from a spirit beyond recognition. a vast dark room comfortable crouching, no hope, no light, yet he takes a glance into my soul. Naked eye, he sees through me directly to my soul his silence seems to claim; "poor pretentious soldier", "come home", "come home"...
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
Naked eye.
I remember you like a famous brachiosaur, ensconced in the terrible street lamps of west county apartment block row. That swaying bronze gate to your three flat two room apartment. Skinny legs for the couch, the backroom bedroom, and the bunk beds in the master suite. We studded me for excellent squeeze; one trident pull switching time against a baited lock. "I'll swallow you whole," you brushed off into my ear while I passed your cheek with my lips, braising your skin with dew drops of our rushes and sweat. Even for April this was alright. Your brother had already moved out, and listening to Hall and Oates and going fishing was all you wanted to do. So I made us two root beer floats with Almond Milk ice cream, and settled into you for five hours and forty-five minutes. It was before 5:00a.m. when you turned to the night and spilled the last ounces of your naked body out to me beneath the satin sheets. I pressed my lips hard against your nose and whispered I'd be leaving soon. Still I do not recall if I woke you when I left, but I remember that next day when you questioned if I had.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
Untitled