Can I cradle you in the nook of my arms? If you were here, would you let me? Hold you I mean? I don’t just want a hug. I want to hold you so we cry together. Kiss the top of your forehead like a mother would. On the shoulder of comfort, let your tears drench my shirt and I will love you like an infant. Can these words hold your head up? I do not want the soft spot of your pain to blemish the fragile newness of the warrior you are becoming. Your critics will look at what you are, but I see what you can become. But you’ve got to let me do my job. Let me hold you. Cradle you in my arms with these words. Cradle you in my arms with this pen. This is not a blog. Not today. Today this is air. This is breath. This is permission to breathe. These are words wooing lullabies for the exhausted spirits of the broken.
The PBS Blog 
Sometimes only one word will suit……in this case…………..Beautiful
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Thank you. I mean it sincerely.
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You have no idea how much I needed to read those words today. Thank you, so much. Thank you.
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You’re so welcomed. So glad I could touch you today! 💪
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S.t.u.n.n.i.n.g. 🙂
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😍😍
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;-P 😛
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Reblogged this on Where Genres Collide.
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Thanks for sharing!
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You’re welcome, Yecheilyah!
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