Their souls not shallow but surfaces enough for one to swallow. Enough for one to dive into, just enough to not let you drown. Their sorrows never visible but valid, maybe tainted but never tamed.
The trembles of a warm broken heart is hers, the pounding of it pending to part from the holder of it’s riping , soloing on a pillow as a wet tissue, full and covered by the ocean that flows out of her.
The trembles of a cold broken heart is his, the pounding of it pending towards the holder of it’s repairing, dueling on a door of splinters, full and covered by thorns that flows out of him.
With both genders, critical observation is applicable! With both genders, there is a huge contrast but the similarities ONLY makes us human.
WITH BOTH GENDERS , THERE IS FEAR, demons to be FOUGHT and battles to be WON.