Easy on Me
Easy on me, baby.
I do not know what softness is,
only your palms
teaching my skin a new language.
I did not know hearts love, not hands,
that lips can be blankets
and not bottles,
that comfort does not have to spill or burn.
Who knew smiles could chase
childhood demons from corners,
that eyes could see through
an iron heart
without breaking themselves.
Easy on me, baby.
Butter me up with your quiet magic
like cinnamon rolls warming a room.
Roll your eyes at my silly jokes,
let me pretend that is bravery.
Wash my scars with your tears,
not to erase them
but to tell them they survived.
Easy on me, baby.
Turn my head slowly with your beauty.
Careful now
hugs may be warmer than flames,
and I am still learning
not everything that warms
is meant to burn.