3.9
June 15, 2016

Be Careful with Her Heart. {Poem}

girl, tender, soft, heart, sweet, woman,

Warning: adult themed!

She’s feisty and fiery. Rubies pulsate like raw sex in her eyes as she spits truth from her raspberry-colored lips, talking boldly about the most intense sh*t.

She doesn’t hold back—oh no, not at all. She curses, muttering audible f*cks between beautiful strings of heartfelt truth about love, death, soul and poetry.

She’s fire, baby. And she knows it.

She’s not for the timid, lackluster, small-talk loving, faint-hearted crowds, numbed into complacency. And she knows it.

Her voice can move mountains, her hips can make seas moan when she shimmes with wildflowers tucked behind her ears, dancing underneath the full, undulating silver moon.

Her spirit, her soul—it’s meant to soar. And she knows it.

For she is a dreamweaver, a goddess, a healer, a free-spirit, a Mother, a sister, a lover, a fighter, a relentless truth seeker on the ever-winding path to fulfilling the raw cries of her soul.

She is a thousand things beaded together on a pearl-and-conch shell necklace. And she’ll go to great lengths to convince you she’s superwoman…

She’s not.

She might be the wildest fire in the world. She might burn bright and fly high and dive deep—but she’s incredibly vulnerable, too.

‘Cause sure, she twirls in twisting folds of velvety, scary darkness and frolics in fields of yellow-speckled wildflowers with soul-splitting presence. She ventures on harrowing journeys that others would never dream of saying yes to. She plummets to the absolute depths of despair and rises like a proud phoenix, every goddamn time.

But underneath it all, underneath all the vividness and wildness and buzzing neon noise—

Her heart is tender beyond belief.

She is raw. She is real. She shatters easily.

Her heart is softer than she’d like it to be—and she needs, now, for it to be held gently, with the utmost care.

Be careful with her heart.

She won’t want to say it—she will want to utter absolutely anything except that one goddamn phrase—but that doesn’t make it any less true.

She won’t want to say it at all, but—

Be careful with her heart.

Hold her gently, like a fragrant ruby rose petal—and challenge her fiercely, too—but don’t ever stop caressing her with care.

She will be watching and waiting to see if she can trust you.

For she has been bruised, buried, burned, scratched, broken and trampled upon more times than she’d like to admit.

She has been used up and spat her out like day-old trash, by hearts who failed to appreciate her unique brand of beauty. But most of all, she has failed to appreciate herself. She’s learning how to do that, right now, as we speak.

Be careful with her heart.

Let her open up to you slowly, peeling back her crunchy-sweet baklava layers, one bite at a time. Let her soft, pastel colors peak through, one muted shade at a time. Let her eyes meet yours in perfect time, revealing one by one, the slow-flowing turquoise tears she will try to hide from you.

Be careful with her heart.

‘Cause yes, she’s loud and gritty—she knows how to stand up and growl and spit truth like wildfire and stomp her feet down and fight fiercely. In fact, she goes to great lengths to seem unbreakable.

She might even act like she doesn’t give a f*ck, but don’t be convinced—that’s just a clever, glossy cover up. She gives a f*ck. She gives a thousand jeweled f*cks in the form of tears, heartstrings, and an entire frothy sea of impassioned empathy.

She’s gotten too comfortable hiding behind her spittin’ hot flames. But comfort isn’t what she’s here for. She is for truth. And heart.

And the truth is—underneath it all, she’s just a woman with a huge, dripping heart who yearns to love. And be loved.

Yes, underneath it all—

Her heart is soft.

Tender beyond belief.

And that tenderness is begging, now, to be seen. To be held. To be cherished, deeply.

Your caring presence is the key that can open her.

So if you’re patient, if you hold her heart with intention and presence and care—she will unfold in your warm arms, one feather at a time, like an exotic bird; like a throbbing nebula galaxy giving birth to tiny, twinkling new stars at every expanding moment. Slowly, ever so slowly—in the depths of your sweetest embrace—she will peek out from behind her fierce, tigeress facade and grace you with the genuine smile that oozes directly from her soul.

But there is just one thing she silently asks of you—

Be careful with her heart.

She will hold yours, too, with tender feathered softness like you’ve never felt before in your life.

No matter how loud she is, no matter how gritty, how fiery, how boldfaced, how wild and intense and stormy—

Her heart is soft.

Tender beyond belief.

And for the first time in her life—she is ready to honor that. She sees now, that there’s no need to cover up this juicy tenderness with prickly tough girl cactus thorns and flashy metallic armor.

‘Cause her soft heart—it’s not a flaw. It’s not weakness. It’s not a mess-up or an unfortunate mistake.

It speaks for itself. And it speaks so beautifully.

It drips like a glorious mango and stains the sunset with the most joyful, tear-stained poetry.

Her soft heart—

It’s the biggest blessing of all.

So hear this unspoken message of utmost importance.

There is just one thing she needs from you—

Be careful with her heart.

She will be just as careful with yours, too.

 

Author: Sarah Harvey

Image: catherine/Flickr

Editors: Catherine Monkman; Emily Bartran

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