Being completely naked is me being vulnerable, handing you all the power. Each sentence, each confession is an item I take off my soul. My soul has layers that no one has reached.
Telling you how I feel is being naked. It’s knowing you may not feel the same. It’s having to give you the shovel and hope you won’t quit half way as you’re digging. It’s also knowing you may accept me, change your mind, and walk away.
Naked is letting you see me like no one else has. All lights on. It’s you seeing why I’m the way I am. It’s me giving you the key to this door that no one has been able to open. It’s the door to all the insecurities, fears, and regrets. It’s quitting the act; letting you see why I’m a little fucked up and knowingly show you what made me that way.
It’s me opening the legs of my soul and hoping you’ll make love, not fuck me over. It’s letting you see inside me: beyond the beauty, all the ugly. It’s ripping off bandages to unhealed wounds. It’s hoping you won’t hurt them more. It’s accepting that you may be the reason I bleed endlessly.
Naked is being pure when we’ve all sinned. Naked is open to judgment and criticism. My 4am confession to you is what it’s like being naked. “This is who I am and I’m in love with you” is being naked. No one gets this kind of naked anymore. We just take our clothes off.