Seen
"Seen" Let me be seen not just the surface sheen but the sacred scream beneath the silence. The me I’ve buried beneath laughter and light, the raw, the cracked Lalique aching for touch that doesn’t shatter. I am not just skin and story. I am scripture a verse etched in scars, a prayer whispered through clenched teeth at midnight, begging God: “Please, send me someone who won’t flinch at the mess.” I want to undress not just clothes, but centuries of a guarded soul, pull back the armor I wore like second skin because this world taught me survival meant silence. But you… You walk like you’ve met divinity and shook her hand. You look at me like the moon looks at the tide not to own it, but to move it. You hold space like it’s holy ground, and I wonder... could I pour myself into your open palms and not be dropped? I want to speak to you in truths too tender for small talk. Tell you how I flinch at love because I’ve only known it conditional. Tell you I cried during a song once,...