I didn't notice how naked I was
until all our movement stopped and we just laid there
and I heard this was the best part,
I knew this was the best part,
but it didn't feel like the warmth I imagined would radiate from my heart
like the butterflies I so enjoyed would fly me straight to heaven
but I'm laying here naked
and the warmth of my heart chilled when it reached my skin
and my butterflies have turned to caged birds wanting so desperately to fly away
just like I desperately want to fly away
like I desperately want to be any where but here in this tender embrace
OH, what is wrong with me that this beautiful vulnerability feels so much like shame?
Why can't I just be here and be gloriously loved by you?
I can't. I can't.
I can't let you love me because I don not love myself.
Suddenly, the chill of my skin reminds me of the hate I hold in my heart.
The bitterness I keep stored to perfectly destroy these precious moments.
Bottled up from a former love that left me feeling as cold as my skin,
as empty as this cabinet I have for a heart.
This jar of ruin was stored by you.
It was in your arms I had felt the restless butterflies fly me to that glorious place
where I swore angels sang to me and it all just felt right
and it was those same butterflies that made me intoxicated with you
they drove me into your arms and suddenly my heart swelled with heat
when I sat one night, lovingly rambling about you
I confessed a secret to my friend, I said, I loved you.
and oh she had the sweetest response,
she handed me her phone and showed me a picture of you
kissing another girl.
That picture threw me into darkness.
My lungs filled with poison and my eyes burst into bitter tears.
My skin had cooled to ice and my tears felt like fire raining down my face.
My butterflies, my sweet compainions, died mid-flight.
My brain started screaming at me,
"you stupid slut, how dare you think,
you deserved love from him."
and isn't it funny how no one disagreed with my brain
and isn't it funny how the world told me I was worthless,
just like I berated myself into believing?
I took it on so fast,
the notion that I was not good enough for your love.
Thinking of you made me sick not of hate but of shame.
My daily life became evading the always constant feeling
of feeling like I was never gonna be enough.
And here in this embrace I cannot shake this feeling
that I have been programmed to feel
through loss and betrayal and a world with fucked up views
I am not good enough to feel this love again,
but even more daunting in my brain is the tiny whisper,
"enjoy it while you can slut"
because this naked embrace, this beautiful thing,
has been tainted
and simply reminds me that when my lover discovers the truth
he will leave too,
because I am not good enough to be loved.