She covered her naked truth in robes of colors bright & brimming with attractiveness
Cheerful to an outside world onlooking but never seeing her skin raw, aging, maturing, growing wise whilst sharing her stories of both dark & light
These colorful pastels, oh how they masqueraded in soft cottons, a youth of blue denims, and romances of silks in a splashing array of garden rose blooms
Such is an outward tapestry to lustful eyes, wanting only a pretty sculpted surface of pretty, perfect stories with no skin exposing her nakedness, her rawness, imperfect in form
Oily concealer concealed her face from onlookers basking in her flawlessness, with none of her raw skin to bare & no simplicity of pure imperfect truth to expose
They liked it this way, whilst secretly her soul hid away, crushing beneath all these perfect layers, shielding her nakedness from the outside world of onlookers
Truth is, her naked truth was too much to bare openly for both her & them