We, as flesh and blood, are creatures so unforgiving.
When wounded, we never trust again.
Like a beaten dog,
even when a loving hand reaches to stroke it's face,
it shies or bites.
I shy.
Amiable,
but only so many have glimpsed my true self.
Everyone else,
sees the shell,
while body and soul
run.
There is one though,
who enables me to breathe.
Rubs my back;
I can smell the warmth of his chest.
Gently kisses my eyelids;
my skittish heart releases.
I am not afraid.
Except of this vulnerability...
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