There is only so much room for all this — this tenderness, spilling from grazed; hollowed palms on to the laps of those undeserving.
Unbefitting not due to his worth: but due to the way he loves you less than you warrant. Your heart is a land and I will not let you have any less than the soil that nurtures it.
.....
I am deliberately prying open my wounds, undoing all the time I spent carefully stitching them up. I am rubbing salt in and letting it tear at my seams.