“I love you”, he whispered.
The words came out of his tainted lips, like an airy wisp,
demanding to be caught by her, and demanding to be answered to.
Her own lips formed the very words, but remained unmoving.
Her heart, wounded tightly, refused to say them back,
for her brain that thought too much, could not believe them to be true.
She was not what he saw, nor was she what he thought of her to be.
She was not the willowy hair that spread across the pillow,
neither was she the soft mouth that begged to say something back.
She was not the alluring eyes that looked fondly ahead,
neither was she the gentle smile that played across her lips.
Before him, she bared herself then, to show who she truly was.
Depth of emotion and a confused mind brought themselves forth.
Whirlwind of sentiments and a raging brain were exposed.
Hours of lying on the bathroom floor in tears were revealed,
and days where she was drowning in despair were unconcealed.
The war within her mind was harsh against the soft curve of her face,
the turmoil that she lived in gave an edge to the pleasant aura that surrounded.
He better tread soft, for the edges were sharp,
And so were the words that sometimes escaped her lips.
Her clothes fell free, disclosing the secrets that her body held.
Scars, wounds, blemishes, and stretch marks, she wore them all,
like old and dusty medals on a trophy case that was no longer treasured.
She was a work of art neglected, once started and never finished.
She was everything she did not portray; she was everything he did not see.
Unveiled and bared open,
“I dare you to love me now”, she whispered back.