Mother Bare

You’ve seen me without my face,

Without my lipstick and my mistakes,

Blemish rests upon these bones,

Wearing nothingness:

I relish upon my throne.

You accept my get-up,

But would much rather do without it,

Experiencing my shield,

The one of foundation and powder.

Clear judgment exudes through,

What would I do without them?

Without you?

I could not stand the sight of my own face,

Without wearing my shield,

I could not amount to the myriad of beauty I desired.

You are my make-up,

Your words I wear upon my skin,

Your truth complements the beauty within.

How you treasure the way my eyes gleam:

No shadow to hide them from the sun,

How my lips pout candidly like candied caramel apple slices:

Wearing nothing for fun.

You love the way I look,

You love me natural and nude.

To whom can I be compared: “No one.” You soothe.

I fall prey to your elixir,

This potion: your sweet speech,

Compliments: cunning, leaving me in complacency.

Ultimately leave me feeling un-kissed of your approval until tomorrow’s morn,

Seeing something out of place upon my face: wearing my favorite shade of scorn.

There’s something I feel you see,

Something I kvetch over endlessly,

Embarrassed to show me,

But, bare is what you want me to be.

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