I stand before you, trembling in my nakedness.
Bound by a penetrating gaze, my doors open and I invite you in.
The labyrinth of my internal landscape revealed through the flames of my eyes.
Every turn bringing you closer to the the center of my wild, beating heart.
Her vigorous pulses guiding the way with the low octaves of her consistent rhythm—penetrating the walls and echoing through the chambers.
Will you keep moving forward, strong in your conviction, as the layers crumble and fall before you?
Piece by piece, exposing the tender, sensitive bruises of my humanness.
Will I even let you?
I want you there.
And, I don’t.
I want you to see me in the moments when my heart is so filled with emotion that my body shakes and the waters of my eyes pour down my face and land safely in the waiting pools on the surface of your skin.
Maybe it was something you said, or I said or maybe there were no words and we were simply swept up in a moment of joy, sadness, amazement, love.
It doesn’t matter. We are there and it is.
I want you to see me huddled in the corner, knees pulled up tight, hiding my eyes so you can’t see inside of me.
(So, nobody can see inside of me.)
You will think that I want you to leave but you won’t because you know that even though I won’t ask, all I want is for you to come over and wrap your arms around me, becoming part of my fortress.
We’ll stay like that for a while, until I soften and remember that even in my aloneness, I don’t have to be alone.
I want you to see me when I’m laughing so uncontrollably that I look more like a girl than a woman, the sparkle in my eyes lighting up any speck of darkness.
This fit of ecstasy will probably last for a while. It usually does.
Eventually, you will join in and our inner children will be unveiled, and we’ll play together like we would have on a sultry summer night, running unabashedly through the flower sprinkled fields, stopping every once in a while to search for lightening bugs.
Carefree but not careless.
I want you to see me when I’m sitting quietly, legs crossed, eyes closed, connecting to that space within myself that connects us all to something greater.
Maybe you’ll be sitting across from me, our knees only inches apart, our lungs filling and emptying in unison.
I will smile, knowing that you are so close, fighting the urge to giggle as we sit with our inner peace.
I want you to see me when I’m creating. When my eyes are unfocused and I’m searching for the words that are screaming to come out.
When my spirit spills out of the boundaries of my body and I am bigger than myself.
In those moments, that’s all there is, words waiting to become the stories told by the voices in my heart.
And, you will need no explanation because you already understand. Completely.
I want you to see me when I am possessed by the fierce, wild woman that exists in my heart. She will want to drink whiskey and wear cowgirl boots and if it’s cold, her motorcycle jacket.
Her voice will be lower, she will probably talk a bit louder and she may act as if she doesn’t need you. She likes to pretend that she doesn’t need anybody.
If it’s too much, just remember that although she might not admit it, she wants you there.
I want you there and I want you to see me.
All of me.
I Don’t Want to be a Perfect Woman.
Author: Brandie Smith
Editor: Renee Picard
Photo: Derrick Leiting/Pixoto
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