The Versions of Her
Some see the fire, some see the flame’s glow.
A mystery, like a whispered secret,
Played like chance in a lover’s game.
The bold… the tender…
But never the whole.
She moves like freedom,
Fierce and untamed,
Wearing her strength like silk spun in storms.
The world sees her wild, unshaken—
Not knowing it was heartbreak
That wove that fearless skin.
She’s learned—
Not once, but over and over,
That love can teach with a cruel tongue.
Yet still,
She dreams of the girl within,
The softer version,
Dancing barefoot in her mind.
A tender bloom,
Like a willow swaying in hush-light winds,
Hidden behind laughter and wit—
Her shield, her armor, her silence.
But when she loves,
It’s not in halves.
She wraps herself around you like breath—
Arms entwined,
Fingers tracing devotion across your chest,
A hand cradling your face
Like you’re made of stars and aching.
She’ll give you more than touch—
She’ll give you the feeling
Of being truly held.
Legs drawn around your waist,
Fingers in your hair,
A warmth that seeps into the parts of you
You forgot were cold.
And all of it,
Lives quietly within her—
A garden guarded,
A flame kept safe.
But light can flicker
When bridges burn.
And if you break what she gave,
She won’t return.
Not that girl who clung like poetry,
Not the one who kissed like prayer.
She’ll take that love,
And twist it into silence,
The fire turned sharp,
The heart turned away.
Still—
She’s there.
Always.
Waiting behind the glass,
Soft hands pressing,
Hoping for someone brave enough
To see all of her—
And never let her go.
