Bare,

stripped down,

denuded.

I am as I was born,

naked before Your eyes.

No fake smile,

no mask.

No last-ditch attempt at impressing,

for You know what I am –

broken,

scarred,

warped.

My defences are useless.

 I quiver before Your thoughtful gaze.

Shame lowers my eyes,

makes me blush to my roots.

Your scrutiny never wavers.

Nothing You see surprises

or sickens.

Wounds can’t make you blanch,

welts have no power to revolt.

Rather,

when I dare to steal a peek,

I discern something new.

Is it – pride?

Admiration?

Longing.

Loving.

Accepting.

Sobs shake me,

autumn rains to wash away

former visions,

mirror images.

All that is left is –

me.

And

You say

I am enough.

Bare…