Rough Around the Edges

But do you know?

My hands are calloused,

scarred and brittle.

My nails are bitten,

snagged and little.

My eyes are pink,

wet and burning.

My heart is cracked,

from ache and yearning.

So I’m not afraid

to hold your thorns.

I won’t turn away

from your turmoil and scorn.

I’ll kiss your icy flames,

feel your teeth draw my blood,

But I’ll gently hold your face

and tell you I’m in love.

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