Insecurity

I remember a time
when I wore my skin
on the outside
of my clothes;
soft,
delicate,
and revealing
like a fragrant rose
just waiting
to be deflowered
by any man
who'd stop and smell
the aroma of suggestion

My thighs were two weapons
of golden seduction,
cocked and ready to attract
all the single seeds
hungry for a candied soil
to root their sweaty veins

I was confident,
sexy,
and mysteriously me
without knowing who I
really was,
my tongue lacked matter
instead it wrapped itself around
cold hearted vanity
and flapped around
like a fish out of water
dying to breathe
for anyone
(other than)
the thorny rose
of a self destructing,
man hunting,
leafless flower petal
that forgot how to love,
(especially herself)