Rock my Tenderness.

I know you love my fire, my lightning, my intensity---but will you love my tears?

Will you love my lace, my gentleness, my shaky fingertips?

Will you love me when I'm having a full-blown panic attack in the grocery story parking lot?

Will you love me when my roar is a soft whisper, filled with caramel, with love, with shaky little truths?

Will you still love me when I don't feel capable, confident or certain?

Rock my tenderness.

Make love the spaces inside me that feel fragile to the touch and tender as hell to look at. Caress me gently, like a soft mist of magical piano keys kissing my cheek on an early Spring day. Kiss me all over, like snowflakes dancing, twirling, and then finally landing on my skin with a satisfied splash.

Balance my heart in your hands and whisper old love poems to me.

Rock my tenderness.

Underneath my lioness roar is a woman longing to be appreciated. To be cared for.

Rock my tenderness.

Walk with me in the rain as I cry and tell you all the secrets I've been keeping inside.

I want to cozy up in your arms and drink a cup of mango ginger tea.

I want to slow down, way down, and hear the pause in our breath, when we're not inhaling our exhaling.

Rock my tenderness.

Let's stay in bed all day. And not impress each other one bit.

Let's be.

Tender, fragile, uncertain.

Let's be human together, my love.

For that is what really rocks my world.

Photo: Pixabay