Layers of Protection
My feet get cold, not from winter's breath, but the touch of risk lurking in every step toward love. I wear socks, not just for warmth, but as armor.. soft, silent, a barrier between me and the sting of what could be. Each thread is a memory, a scar, a whisper of times when I walked too close to the flame, when I trusted the ground and it gave way beneath me. The world tells me to go barefoot, to feel the earth, to let the wind kiss my skin. But I’ve danced that dance, felt the gravel pierce, heard the laughter fade as the pain took hold. So I stay here, protected, enclosed, safe in the warmth I weave for myself. But in the quiet, I wonder? is the safety worth the longing? Will I ever dare to bare my soul, to walk unguarded into love’s uncertain light? -jane..