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“To love is to place your most fragile self in another’s palms. The parts of you still bruised from past wounds. The scars that never quite healed right. You stand before them, chest bared. You point to the hollow spaces between your ribs where previous heartbreaks carved their initials. And you whisper, “Here—this is where it hurts the most.” All the while hoping, beyond reason, that they’ll choose tenderness over destruction.” — Victoria Veles
To love is to place your most fragile self in another’s palms.
The parts of you still bruised from past wounds.
The scars that never quite healed right.
You stand before them, chest bared.
You point to the hollow spaces between your ribs where previous heartbreaks carved their initials.
And you whisper, “Here—this is where it hurts the most.”
All the while hoping, beyond reason, that they’ll choose tenderness over destruction.