You see right through me.
You always have. You always will, I fear.
You don’t give me the gift of shame –
I can’t hide or deny my thoughts
when you are in my head.
My carefully constructed facade
crumbles at your intrusion.
You know what exactly to ask
to solicit the answers I don’t want to give you.
My tightly wound emotions
uncoil and snake around you,
intent on either seducing or strangling you.
My intense concentration
breaks the moment you ask me, well,
I have learned, no matter how hard I try,
no matter how determined I am to be otherwise,
I can be nothing but naked in front of you.