Naked




If this be true, then the moon has seen me naked so many more times than the sun!
 Is it a thought that bothers me? 
That the Moon has looked inside of me, gazed at parts 
That even the Sun has not been privileged to see? 

 The Moon has been allowed to examine my flaws and imperfections. 
It has kept me company during the darkest and ugliest moments of my life. 
It has celebrated with me when I choose to reveal my own light! 
And cloaked me when the Sun’s heat melted my heart! 

And yet has the Moon ever understood me? 
Has it ever undressed my excesses? 
Has it ever looked at why my light falters and dims? 
Has it ever wondered why the Sun couldn’t be enough 
And why this nakedness is now bruised and will never heal? 










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