I kept mistaking my tenderness for weakness.
As though loving deeply meant I should also learn to drown quietly.
The ocean never apologizes for having tides.
It simply rises.
Retreats.
Returns.
Maybe my heart was never too much.
Maybe it only found itself resting inside hands that feared deep water.
So let them call me overwhelming.
The moon still chooses the sea every night.
Between Bruises & Blooms 
Leave a comment