It's true.
You may feel like you have the ultimate shield, covering your heart with bony armor; cold and encasing the sensitive organ from the frightening possibility.
The possibility of exposure.
Of warmth.
Of pain.
Pain which came before. Again and again with each man you cracked your ribs open to so he could gently kiss, he instead bit. Some with betrayal. Some with indifference. Some with lies. Every time with poison.
So you carefully constructed your defenses; a ziggurat of bone and thorns. Impenetrable to everyone who tried to touch you again.
But you haven't met me.
I see the great treasure inside of the sealed walls and I know that I must convince you that I will not try to possess it or damage it, but to open it to my exposed self as well. To merge and create instead of pillaging and salting the earth of where it rests.
So I take this javelin. Sharp in it's intent. Straight in it's determination. Balanced perfectly in it's truth.
I stand tall
I draw my arm back
And I let my pilum fly
Shatter
