When my strength
Falters
Let me rest my weary
Head against your shoulder
The gift of my vulnerability
Wrapped in stoicism
Opened with care
Because I’ve given it before
And they took all the pieces
Made a knife and
Carved their name
Into my chest
But you,
Eyes shining with
Delight at the
Chance to serve
The wounds I bear
Hold me close
Brush your fingers
Against my skin
Make me remember
My strength
When it feels like a
Myth told so often
Its meaning worn away
But you are muse
And nurse
The healing begins
And I soften
Before I grow
Hard
Ten feet tall
Made from diamond
Beautifully done…..
Past may have sharpened many knives and grooved them into our skin….. but we are always hopeful to bloom in those scars… with hope and acceptance…. š
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve hurt and been hurt, I’m learning as I go and opening up has been part of the process. Thank you for your comment, it was lovely and I really appreciate it.
LikeLiked by 1 person