'Yeah, I'm not vulnerable.'
I've been telling myself this for too long.
I'm delicate.
  Easily damaged.
  Porcelain.
I bare my soul because it brings closure                  
  to wounds left festering for years.
But to be vulnerable means I must have your trust.
  Shall I trust you?
    Pour years of pain before your feet?
    Or would you just hurt me like others could?