protection

I try to coax myself away from these thoughts these notions that my beauty is measurable but on certain days, they linger i question whether the curves of my body will ever be gracefully traced by loving fingertips whether my hips will be grabbed tenderly whether my neck will be kissed passionately rather -- am i undeserving, unfitting for any kind of romantic zeal like that i know the reasoning is because i am so fucking scared and so fucking fed up of being used of being exploited of lying on my floor, shaking with vulnerability my body, an influence for blatant disrespect rather than wholesome desire but i can't help but wonder if in my quest to refrain from these negative interactions i've placed a protective block over myself a shield behind which I'm hiding impeding me from experiencing any pleasure at all

writer's note: i've written pieces in the past with this exact subject matter, but with different language and a different grasp at it. while there may be a stigma against writing about the same thing, there's nothing wrong with trying to boost some creativity and develop a prior theme/notion -- it helps you get better and even perhaps it could help you express an idea more clearly/creatively. -- ls