I feel the world before it speaks, a shift in tone, a passing glance, the way a room inhales too sharply or joy arrives without advance.
My skin is thinner than most days allow, words land heavy, even kind ones do. I hear the things you didn’t mean to say and carry them longer than you knew.
I love in floods, not careful streams. I ache at endings others pass. A song can open every door to moments I thought were past.
They call it too much, too soft, too deep, too easily torn. They don’t understand the strength in choosing warmth over armor.
Because I notice beauty everywhere: the tired smile, the half-healed scar, the way the sky forgives the night by lighting stars exactly where they are.
I bruise where others don’t notice the blow. I heal slowly, deliberately. But I offer a love that does not retreat and a presence that doesn’t flee discomfort.
So if my heart feels loud to you, or my tears arrive unplanned, know this, I was built to feel deeply in a world that barely understands.
And though this openness can wound me, I keep it, knowing what it means, that pain is just the echo of a life that’s fully seen.
Intwined 