Naked Truth

She wrote herself in fantasy,
the yearning of her soul,
the Lady she was meant to be,
a woman, loving, whole.

And in that world she could express
the need within her heart,
not see herself as something less
she felt outside her art.

She met the man who touched her core,
but found they couldn't be,
so painted them as something more,
in misty fantasy.

She walked within that fairytale,
and always found him there,
created love that wouldn't fail,
a Knight who'd always care.

Though written as a fantasy,
it came from all they'd said,
words she thought reality,
and dreams within her head.

He said she was his missing soul,
just how he made her feel,
a bond he said that made him whole,
a bond she knew was real.

And passion slowly built in her,
and stole away control.
And need for him engulfed her,
devoured her very soul.

So she put away the Lady
that couldn't make him feel,
that never touched a need so he
would just once make them real.

And she stripped the woman of her,
stood naked to his glance,
but never could desire stir,
to make him join her dance.

And she thought he took the others
as naked she still stood,
and like Eve in tears she covered
her blushing womanhood

And tried then not to feel the shame,
nor face the final cost,
and not to see what she became,
and all that she had lost.

She's finally found herself again,
well, most of what she was,
the Lady she had always been,
is now in all she does.

And, too, she's found her fantasy,
though drearer now it seems,
so tainted by reality,
she mixed in with her dreams.

And now the sadness in her heart,
is not for fantasy,
nor Knight and Lady of her art,
but lost reality.

She may still walk her fairytales,
but knows that they're not real,
next to friendship's loss, passion pales,
and loss she'll always feel.©

RAC 4-13-99