Between the lines

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12

you are the only one
who knows how to unfold me
without tearing the pages

you find the places
I have kept carefully creased
the corners I tucked away
from everyone else

you learn me slowly
with fingertips that never rush
finding the language
beneath my silence

you know where I am soft
where I am guarded
where years have taught me
to close myself tightly

and somehow
with you
I don’t have to hide
between the lines

you unfold me
until there is nothing left
but the truth of me
in your hands

12 thoughts on “Between the lines”

  3. I find myself compelled to view from two distinct perspectives: the one who is unfolded, and the one doing the unfolding.

    Firstly, to be read or seen or respected or loved etc is sometimes so rare and we are so desperate for it, that we accept the costs. The judgment. The compromises. The vulnerability. The trauma. The sacrifices. So, to be “unfolded” as you eloquently say, without the “tearing” is rare. Beyond rare, even. Sacred. The beauty of having this sacred relationship is it makes us more comfortable, freer, safer, to write our story. Reveal more of what has already been written and to never stop writing.

    Secondly, to read, see, respect, love someone without “tearing” their pages is a privilege. It’s an honor. And, therefore, it must be honored. To be the one someone feels safe with, must be protected from everything. Including ourselves.

    To be unfolded and torn hurts. The only thing worse is to be unfolded and not torn…only to be torn again. Devastating.

    To be the one to unfold and not tear is a beautiful expression of love. To be the one to unfold and not tear only to tear your loved one after that…well, it simply cannot be done.

    Reply

    • There is such a difference between being exposed and being known. To be unfolded is to surrender the places we’ve spent years protecting, and I think what makes that surrender sacred is the trust that the person holding those pages will be gentle with them.

      And maybe that’s what makes the “without tearing” matter so much. It isn’t simply about kindness. It’s about what happens when someone learns exactly where you are tender and chooses, every time, to handle you with care.

      Because once you’ve let someone read the pages you’ve hidden from everyone else, they know exactly where the tears would hurt most.

      I think that’s the beautiful and terrifying paradox of being truly known: the same hands that can teach you that it’s safe to unfold can also be the hands that make you wish you’d stayed closed.

      Thank you for everything, Michael. Sincerely.

      Reply

  4. I so loved the beauty, love and emotional tenderness you painted with your words!! A great Love poem!!!

    Especially loved the last 2 stanzas:

    and somehow
    with you
    I don’t have to hide
    between the lines

    you unfold me
    until there is nothing left
    but the truth of me
    in your hands
    Chuck 😁🎁💖💕🌹

    Reply

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