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.
