Wrapped in a warm hug
dressing gown embraces me
and I her.
“Mutual respect,” some may call it.
I call it love.
There is a boundary between my heart and the fluffy material;
My skin protects me and embraces me and I hold her and that mutual love and respect opens my heart and I am vulnerable.
That vulnerability makes me empathetic, open and honest, but when those qualities are taken advantage of, the flower encloses into itself and I am entangled in my own thoughts.
I feel used, I feel angry, and most upsettingly, I can only think about myself as a result.
Gone are my embraces of friends through words and cuddles.
Gone is my love.