I’ve given myself
A million little reasons
Why  

I don’t deserve
The comfort, but
Not a day goes
By

I wish I was  
In your arms
Again.

I’ve given myself,
A million little reasons

Just to avoid the  
Rising tide

Emotional chemicals,
Mixing, sending my soul  
In overdrive.

Overwhelmed, and  
realized tortured  
Soul,

Hoping my heart
Can learn to love
Amid this lull.  

I’ve given myself,
A million little reasons
Why  

But there’s something
About you that makes
Me want to  

Try.

Part I

There are parts of me I will not give you, Stranger;
But these parts are not many.
I have always been comfortable in vulnerability.
Or perhaps, I have weaponized it—
To destroy not kingdoms but boundaries:
Confuse the prey and ****** the predator,
until they are one and the same.

Part II

But if I expose my soft underbelly to anyone,
Can it still be considered vulnerability?
How must it feel to be scarred
Again and again
Battered and wounded—
Yet the flesh never hardens against incursion?
To have so much weakness so plainly to see
Easy to touch, even more to make bleed
Bear witness against the truth
Yet shatter all of the doubts—
What lies in the middle, then?
What will the law of averages reveal?
Is that soft underbelly truly so honest and real
Or is it another form of camouflage
Designed to mislead
As the fanfare protects the executioner?

Part III

The armor of insight is deception
Deception that strives to please
For distracting the audience is crucial
To being this kingdom to its knees

So in revealing the war strategy to her enemy
Can a commander be

Part IV

Just who is the enemy, and why does he lurk about?

Heartstrings frayed and  
weathered.

Scarred, and afraid
to weather the storms.

But to heal,  
you know you’ve got to swim
to better days ahead.

All you can do
is all you can,

A push comes to
shove,  

and within time,
the feeling of
love

saves you from  
being buried within.

shame used to bleed out of me
vulnerability an open wound
i desperately tried to hide

until i found i could stand it no longer
and buried the emotion behind smiles and laughter
acting as though i hide nothing in my heart

I cannot fathom the fascination you have with being vulnerable,
Aren’t you more susceptible to deception?

Does it not allow for more frequent coming and going out of your life?
Out of your heart?

Where is the beauty in being who I am?
I am rough, raw and rigid.

Where is the beauty in stiffness? Besides the ability to withstand itself.
Maybe the mere fact that it does not tilt or shift for no one.
But who wants to love someone as stubborn as that?

There is no beauty in being vulnerable.

You cannot continue bleeding out ounces of yourself for people who cannot stand the sight of blood.

I've found that I am unable to breathe through my fountain pen lately.

I've found that the words don't effortlessly flow through my fingertips like they used to.

I no longer seek knowledge through my compact pocket dictionary.

Nevertheless,
I long to write.

I would share your bed forever
That even in clothes
I'll always feel naked with you