By Victoria Pirenoglu

It is as if my chest is open for you to reach out
and grab my heart whenever you please.

Susceptible to the demons of adoration.

It feels as though my thoughts have been drafted all over my face,
so clear for you to read.

It is like speaking in front of a hundred people,
exposed with no where to run.

But you feel your heart pick up pace,
the blood drains from your face.

Vulnerable is a synonym for tender.

For tender I am, and I may shatter under your fingertips.