I reached for you with open skin,
Your thorns, they find their way within.
I bled for love, I thought I should,
But pain was not a sign of good.
I wear my gloves, not out of spite,
But so I love you from what's right.
Not out of fear, or pride, or war,
But to be hurt no less, no more.
I prune with care, I guard my soul,
For love that's real won't take it soul.
I tend, I stay, but I don't break.
I give you space for your own sake.
And if thorns still pierce me through,
I will step back , not to punish you.
I will honor both our need to grow,
And love you more from far than close.
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 12:14 PM UTC
I reached for you with open skin,
Your thorns, they find their way within.
I bled for love, I thought I should,
But pain was not a sign of good.
I wear my gloves, not out of spite,
But so I love you from what's right.
Not out of fear, or pride, or war,
But to be hurt no less, no more.
I prune with care, I guard my soul,
For love that's real won't take it soul.
I tend, I stay, but I don't break.
I give you space for your own sake.
And if thorns still pierce me through,
I will step back , not to punish you.
I will honor both our need to grow,
And love you more from far than close.
