What I offer

Do you want something true?

Then come closer.

Not to the woman I was before the breaking,

but to the one who remained.

Do you want the river still flowing after drought?

The candle still burning after the wind?

Do you want my heart?

Take it knowing it was not preserved for you.

It was lost.

Torn open.

Buried beneath seasons of sorrow.

Every scar was sewn by hand.

Every thread pulled through flesh and memory.

Every ounce of tenderness carried forward at great expense.

Do you want my love?

Then understand:

What I offer is not untouched.

It is a miracle of survival.

And every time I place it in someone’s hands,

there is still a part of me that trembles.