Maybe it’s the luminosity in her eye, icy and vehement, crackling with glacial blue slivers. Or the fierce biting timbre she whispers beneath her breath. Possibly it is the depth of courage you feel through her fingers as she places them on your cheek.
She twists you up.
Consumed by the complexity shimmering off her armored skin.
You have never occupied space with a woman of her strength, not while outwardly viewing the raw sorrow behind guarded eyes. She is vulnerable but dreads you sense it. She fights against it.
Don’t ignore the hunger to affix your heart to hers. Or shy from the raw attraction in which causes your skin to crawl, body to ache. Mouth to water.
She is worth the anguish.
If you smash through her boundaries, she becomes a warrior for your soul.
She is complex, a titanium shell, craving to be softened, melted and formed into the branches of Eden. Not saved, but found. Exposed and coveted, sutured not healed.
Accept her for every tear-stained pillow and angry outbreak. Pierce her exhausted courage, with your assent. Then listen as her frame softens in your arms. Melting the trepidation in her heart.
She begs for you to gaze at her core with devotion, understand her distress and look through it, for she is not sick, she is powerful. She is a brave soldier training to obtain peace within the barbarians of her misuse.
She is a rigid cliff. Tumultuous, difficult to navigate. Her heart surrounded in jagged mistrust and spiked vines, to camouflage her wounded spirit.
I assure you she is worth each sting and bloodied puncture to your skin.
Don’t shrivel at the noise within her courage. Puff your chest and shelter her in the acknowledgment of her doubts. She will struggle, push you hard. Severing every word of encouragement you place on her ears with steel bound anguish.
Stand your ground, she is examining your commitment. Testing your heart’s loyalty to hers.
She is worth every wall she decides you climb. Every barrier she builds — because once you are inside, she is more than a response to your hunger, she is your appetite. Her arms will become the wings you require to fly. Her fortitude, the tap in your foot, while listening to her song.
She is the river flowing in your mind, evolving, and liquefying your doubts — once you are in, don’t let her go.
She is the shudder of a winter storm roaring against the window of your affection, crashing loudly, deafening your soul.
Coveting her, initiates a blizzard inside her heart that cuts deeper than the blade of any knife. Be careful there is a shield protecting her, and behind it, is the sword she swings to survive.
She is fearless and afraid. Needy, yet vigorous.
She will cry louder than a tree split by thunder. Scream through tears painted in the blood of her past. Rouse to tremors of battles she fights abreast her incubus in the night.
Hold her, without judgment. See through her façade.
She is the repel of two magnets upon opposite poles. Her fear pushes everyone away.
She won’t whisper she needs you — force is her protection.
You can’t change her — she was built to slay the monsters who terrorize her mind — but you can affirm the torture she wears as a badge of honor. Allow the pungency from her cuts to resonate on your tongue.
Notice the spectrum in each tear — she’s unkempt, reckless and wounded. Perilously seeking to heal scars cut into her heart. She lurks behind a veiled disguise molded from the mud slung at her.
She doesn’t need saving. She starves to be loved as the war-torn, cracked and damaged goddess she is. Exactly as she is.
If you love a warrior, you must want nothing more than to stand in her protective field and ready yourself for battle. She will be a struggle, yet if you make her worth the fight, no woman will ever love you like her.
She will fight as hard for you, as she does against her own demons.