one is baring one's self,
to be the object of scrutiny of a strange party.
One fears the judgmental eye ransacking one's heart.
The hurt of being misunderstood
is not an irrational falsehood.
I open to thee my doors
and lay all my loves (my vices) across the floors.
Spare me, stranger. Be tender.
There is much for me to lose
for this fragility of mine is no ruse.
Your dismissal will dismantle me.
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Note: My ever-present fear of adversity whenever I am asked to justify my preferences be it book, films, music, food, weather, time of the day, colour (I don't have a favourite colour fyi). Difficult for me to share them with random strangers but I suppose my definition of a 'random stranger' has an exceedingly wide berth.
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