Her sweet, blissful assumption, that I am still naive. If only she knew that the coat of innocence tore long ago, although she wrapped it tightly around my slender shoulders.

Men do not like covered women.
Women do not like covered women.

They tugged at every garment I wore until they peeled away my skin, until I stood raw and bare on the street, like a ghost in a chaotic, busy town; judged, because- I must have done something to deserve my egregious fate.

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