A lamb in wolves clothing

Youth devoured by lust.

Beautiful and stunning and taut.

Youthful skin stretching over ancient bones.

Youthful skin stretching over ancient bones

A novel by Sophie Pierce;

Self preservation in the highest order.

A novel or a series of essays that tease and pull at the thread of reality that is being a beautiful woman.

The blessing and curse that is youthful beauty.

The tendency to fawn.

Fawning was how I learned to control the violence in front of me. How to control the insatiable beast that is a lustful older man.

Fawning; how to survive the first impact. Fawning; how to escape with your innocence in tact.

Fawning. Self destructive tendencies that leave me feeling hollow.

Fawning has been the brutal end to my identity - it slips away to appease, to provide saftey for myself.

Fawning killed my desire to thrive in honor of survival. Survive. Survive. Survive.

Kill the need to appease, to placate, to keep the peace. To grin and bat my eyes stupidly as the worst happens around me; happens to me.

The folds of my mind wrap around an ancient concept - self love, self acceptance

To be loved or not to be loved is NO LONGER the question ruminating in the back of my mind.

The question has NOTHING to do with worth anymore and EVERYTHING to do with acceptance.

The questions have evolved.

The ideas have evolved.

The questions are no longer elementary but rather extraordinary.

Up a level!

Up a quantum level!

It’s far more a question of acceptance.

Accepting the things I cannot change. And the wisdom to know the difference

Wisdom is only gained if it is applied.

Wisdom applied is …

My eyes never change.

My eyes stay the same.

Age 6 to age 26.

My eyes are the same.

I am no longer apologetic for my beauty and my intellect. No longer fragmentalazing myself to be palatable for those who cannot hold me.

26 is the embodiment of both. Of all. Childishness, maturity, innocence, sexual ownership, purging the evil instilled — not the definition of who I am but the result of darkness hidden in others that could not contain me; those who could never love me, not fully, not the way I desire to be loved.

Holding myself hostage in situations due to low self esteem, no more!

I am loved, I embody love. I am whole, loving, and truthful.

Honest in my presentation —

A lamb in wolves clothing.

A lamb in wolves clothing.

How dire. How monstrous to hide innocence and gentleness in lieu of learning the nature of men. To hide away, teeth snapping, snarling and salivating. Simply a mirror for protection, hiding the soft inner core.

Keep me safe. Protect me and love me. Cherish me. Hold me close and please never let me go.

A prayer to God,

not to man.

Could a man? Could a man protect, could he? Or will he be the reason I need a protector?

How can I tell the difference; I know!

Push them, test them, never let them hold a space on the pedestal.

Let them leave, let them come back. Hold space let it go. Never let them come home. Leave the door wide open. Or maybe just a crack.

Maybe all of those things all together in the span of 20 minutes. Why not be a hurricane of changing ideas?

In love, out of love, hold on, let go.

Be secure.

Be secure.

Be secure.

A storm. Tempered by none

A storm tempered by …

Someone

Please

Please

Someone temper my storm

I’m begging you

I’ll give …

I won’t give anything.

Not anymore

Not like I used to.

I won’t bare my soul

I won’t!

I won’t!

I won’t!

But I will. I’ll bare the soft underbelly every time.

Unabashed vulnerability.

A sheep in wolves clothing.

A lamb.

A soft and gentle lamb.

Tear me apart.

Rip me to shreds

Please

I’ll love you for it

I’ll bleed for you to love me. I’ll bleed

No I won’t

Not anymore

You’ll bleed! Shouted the angery villigers

WITCH! Shouted the pitchforks

No.

No one will bleed.

No one will bleed becuase love is not a war.

It’s not supposed to be war.

Love is not war.

Love is not war.

Love is not ___.

Then what is it?

Love is …

A white flag.

Surrender