Vulnerable.

Vulnerable

To share or not

Met with kiss and lust,

the language we spoke first—

mouths learning before hearts dared.

I came to you guarded,

wrapped in practiced ease,

unsure if what flickered between us

was a moment or meaning.

Seek deep and true near your heart;

I hovered there,

close enough to feel the warmth,

far enough to retreat if needed.

Every touch asked a question

I wasn’t ready to answer aloud.

There was fear in the wanting,

shyness stitched into every glance,

the quiet wondering

of whether you felt what I felt

or if I was alone in the ache of it.

Yet somehow,

with each meeting,

I loosened my grip—

a breath longer held,

a truth half‑spoken,

a wall lowered by inches.

You saw pieces of me

no one else had noticed,

or maybe no one else had waited for.

That seeing startled me,

made me softer than I planned to be.

Shy to tell pure like—

the words stayed behind my teeth,

fragile as glass,

afraid that once spoken

they could be misunderstood,

or worse, unreturned.

So I stayed in the in‑between,

balancing desire and doubt,

learning how it feels

to be touched

and slowly known.

Vulnerable not because I gave everything,

but because I gave something,

and trusted it might be enough.