I never thought that I would want s o f t n e s s.
Much less,
a soft person
to share my life with.
I thought that I needed someone
who was just as
hard and cold
as I was,
someone who could handle
the callous result
of my upbringing.
Indulging in bitterness was
all I knew to get by,
to protect myself.
I thought s o f t n e s s was
weak and unsubstantial.

I wasn’t prepared, that day,
when we shared
our stories.
You showed me a strength
in vulnerability
that I hadn’t thought existed.
And you had awakened
this feeling within me
that I didn’t know
I was capable of.
It wasn’t anger.
(This I know,
because I know it
all too well.)
It was something
more compelling than that.
I wanted to do everything
in my power
to protect you
from all the harsh things
in this world.

Because your s o f t n e s s is
rare and resilient
in a place filled with
hard feelings,
hard baggage,
hard people
who were once soft like you.
How you managed
to keep your s o f t n e s s
for so long
astounds me.
All that dark, visceral zeal
did not save me,
like you had.

When we’re dreaming,
when our limbs are interlaced
and heavy with sleep,
I can feel your warmth
seeping in,
radiating over my coldness.
With every embrace,
your s o f t n e s s wraps around
and, effortlessly,
m e l t s
my hard n e s s
until
I am soft again.

I never thought that I would want s o f t n e s s.
But now I realize
how much I cannot
— did not —
live,
without it.