If your hand

could reach inside my heart,

what would you do with it?

If I held it out for you to touch

pulsing, pumping, beating with life,

could I trust you?

It is a raw bloody thing,

yet even in all its tenderness

it is strong.

I have given it

to people who did not give a care,

while I still did.

And I have

bled and bled and bled,

so much.

And still,

I refuse to regret any of it.

I refuse to be hardened by hurt.

You can crush my heart

with your bare hands,

and I will cry out in snarling pain.

You must understand,

enduring pain is what has made me resilient,

so I will still continue to be soft.

I am asking you,

could you be gentle and soft

with my heart?

It is strong,

but oh, I am so tired of hurting.

Please, be soft with your touch.

This is all I ask.

Don’t flinch at its scars.

Don’t judge its ripe bruising.

I care for you,

so here I am, here it is.

Please my love, be kind.