Vulnerable it seems like such an ugly word,
like you are allowing your life to be spoken
but not heard.
As if strange fingers are slipping their way
through the crevices of your mind and into your soul.
As if you are defined by weakness,
you are below.
But what if your vulnerability is a conscious willing choice?
a silent breath is your heart’s voice?
the fingers that slip through your mind
trace a path of longing
over every curve they find?
When the words spoken by your lips
are felt not heard.
When a slip of tongue
leaves you flying higher than a bird.
Is it vulnerability
when you have the courage to take a step forward,
Even when you know
that step will place your back against a wall?
When you allow someone else's existence
to fill the space left as your breath falls.
Is love simply a name
for the choice to be
that it is no longer
But a beautiful
of our broken pieces