Exposed

I envision myself in your eyes-

My translucent membrane acting as a buffer
between my thoughts and outward emotions
being stripped away, peeled apart like skin
from the bone under your gaze.

A delicately-woven defense mechanism that I
wrap around myself to seperate thought from
feeling and comfort this blood loss;
A tourniquette while I'm being exposed.

My only problem is that I can't see myself as you do.

I fail to find a distinguishing pattern that will lead
me to see myself inside of you.

Inside this delusion riddled with chaotic and
unreasoned paranoia's, truth isn't a matter
of discerning black and white but rather
interpreting the changes and subtle
inconsistencies to suit my exposed self and
exploit my insecurities.

When a concept of perfection blossoms in my
mind, a standard is seemingly set and therefore
my walls are brought up and over my head.

And I lack the height to stand tall and rise
above this trap-door I've so easliy fallen into.