Letters: For The One Who Taught Me To Strip

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Life makes strippers of us all.

There are many times when you will find your fears, dreams, hopes, secrets or even thoughts just bared for the world to see. It may not happen all at once, but life will show you that this dance is not yours.

It isn’t only one kind of  genre. It will bring you down to your knees, head lowered and hands trembling. It will mock you for all you have ever been and all you have ever wanted to be. Leave you feeling naked and raw.

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I have met people. I have spent hours talking to them, learning how they think, i’ve let myself open up to a few in such a way that if they wanted to, they could destroy me. I have told them the things that make me and break me. I laid down all my flaws, all my insecurities, all the things i loved about myself.

I let them swim in my pools, dive into my depth and touch my deep end. 
I stripped bare, to my soul.
                             for what?
                                          To be judged, lovingly.

I have given them keys, codes and passwords. I have given them rights to parts of me that perhaps i should have kept safer. Should have kept private. All my private parts, even the ones i didn’t really consider private but now i realise maybe i should have shut my mouth.

maybe i should have loved myself better.

maybe i should have kept my dignity intact.

I could have practised to love quietly in loud crowds so i’d never have to tell a living soul of all my loud demons in the silence.

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Now i am a stripper, just like the one who sweats and grips the pole with the inner flesh of her thighs. I am no different. My hands are wrapped around the pole of what is us, whatever we have ever been.

I am slipping. Falling into tomorrow. Knowing history won’t repeat itself.

I am dancing my last dance with you and it’s the last time my back will bend with such grace.

The last time i fold myself around you.

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