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..

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