Layered up

That part of sex that’s overly dismissed

The part where you go from clothes to naked

It feels like I’m on a stage every time

Despite loving nudity

it’s this confusing climax

The way my shirt is ripped off

But my body isn’t always admired

It feels like this big moment that everyone rushes through to

getting to the next part

But maybe im not ready for that

if you take off my pants you better take a whole 5 minutes admiring my underwear

No shirt off until you can admire my nipples through a shirt

Maybe I like suspense

I remember my mom telling me that if you covered up, then boys could only wonder what was underneath.

That seemed like a shield I never knew how to hold

Getting to school only to change in the girls restroom, applying mascara as the first bell rings

I was hypnotized to believe my body was all I had

Then re-entering the space that sexualized me at 8 years old

I quickly learned to cover up again

Sweatshirts, t-shirts, baggy pants, hats

The same things that covered up unhealed wounds protected me again

Layers were my safe space

Anyone that tried peeling one off became a threat

I learned to live with both

Allowing myself to layer up when it felt right

And undress when I understood comfort

Sometimes I still pile on layers only to have them ripped off

Raw

Empty thoughts

Terrified

Learning to protect my layers

-Shealyn Shea Lyn