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.