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True vulnerability is scary. To truly let another in to see it all, flaws and all. It is the greatest gift we can give another person. It requires trust and openness. Not something easily given, but often easy to throw away. Keep your heart open, through the pain, and let your light shine and the right people will follow.
Just click Add to Cart and once you have purchased the item you will receive a link which will direct you to the site you can edit the text and background.
To be soft in a world so sharp
is to bleed quietly in the dark,
to hold your heart like trembling glass
and still extend it when they pass.
It’s saying “stay” with tear-stained grace,
though fear burns shadows on your face.
Its truth unwrapped, no gilded frame,
just trembling hands that speak your name.
It’s letting silence fill the air
when words might twist or wound or snare,
and showing scars like morning light
not weakness, but a will to fight.
It’s trusting touch when trust has torn,
and growing back where pain was born.
To cry, to crack, to not pretend
to start again when things don’t mend.
Vulnerability, fierce and bright,
is not the absence, but the right
to show you’re human, flawed, and true
a soul that dares, despite the bruise.
And in that raw, unguarded place,
we find the edge of love and grace.
True vulnerability is scary. To truly let another in to see it all, flaws and all. It is the greatest gift we can give another person. It requires trust and openness. Not something easily given, but often easy to throw away. Keep your heart open, through the pain, and let your light shine and the right people will follow.
Just click Add to Cart and once you have purchased the item you will receive a link which will direct you to the site you can edit the text and background.
To be soft in a world so sharp
is to bleed quietly in the dark,
to hold your heart like trembling glass
and still extend it when they pass.
It’s saying “stay” with tear-stained grace,
though fear burns shadows on your face.
Its truth unwrapped, no gilded frame,
just trembling hands that speak your name.
It’s letting silence fill the air
when words might twist or wound or snare,
and showing scars like morning light
not weakness, but a will to fight.
It’s trusting touch when trust has torn,
and growing back where pain was born.
To cry, to crack, to not pretend
to start again when things don’t mend.
Vulnerability, fierce and bright,
is not the absence, but the right
to show you’re human, flawed, and true
a soul that dares, despite the bruise.
And in that raw, unguarded place,
we find the edge of love and grace.