Naked

You will never see me cry,
You will never see me curved around the toilet bowl as I shove one, then two fingers down my throat.

You will never see me unguarded,
Or naked,
Or vulnerable.

You will never see my eyes,
You will look into them and search for words and meanings 
But you will never see through my lies.

You will never smell my insecurities
And I will shield me from you with mascara, drawn eyebrows, foundation, concealer, a coy blush,
And you will never even see my face,
The real one,
The one behind this air of self-importance
The one that finds solace on the bathroom floor, swollen as I weep.

You will never see me naked,
You will feel my thighs around you
And hold my body as I merge it with yours 
And trace my skin in consummate bliss
But you will never see more than this.

You will never see more than I show you,
You will never see my chin drop, 
Or my hands tremble,
Or my grasp less than firm.
You will never see me laugh uncontrollably,
Or my legs anything but crossed
And my nails anything but manicured
You will never see my flaws.

You will not see me every morning stand on my weight scale 
Or stuff extra silicon in my bra
And dust off my butt pad

And when you leave, 
As you all do,
I'll say to myself, "I knew he would".
That's why he never saw me naked.