Brave

What is it about loving you that makes me so brave?
Is it the possibility of more or just that
You picked me up with rubber gloves,
Did not deny that I'm just a branch of thorns,
Yet accepted me just the same.
I lost my bloom so long ago,
My petals (my beauty, my softness) fell one by one,
I had stopped feeling soft an eternity ago,
Was left as a carcass to the wind.
I never knew that I could not hurt,
That I don't need to hurt,
That I could still be soft, be kind,
Be considered nice, beautiful
For all my battle scars, for my darkness,
But you still held me,
Learnt to hold me as me,
Even when all I had were thorns.
And now I feel so brave,
That maybe love might let me bloom again,
Because I had stopped wanting to grow,
Yet now I find myself growing,
Spreading, maybe even budding,
Though I still keep my brown thorns.