[Sung to you, this song holds space for vulnerability, resilience, and tender honesty. Imagine a low, warm voice, acoustic guitar, and quiet harmonies guiding you through the fire and calm alike. It’s a song about being seen, steady love, and a soft place to land.]
Verse 1
She’s got a porchlight heart in a backroad town,
Lets the lost ones wander and sit themselves down.
There’s a hush in her voice when the thunder rolls in,
Like she’s known a few storms and survived them.
She don’t scare easy when the sky turns wild,
She’s knelt in the dust beside a raging child.
Says, “Your fire’s not wrong — let’s just shape the flame,”
And somehow the wind forgets its name.
Chorus
She’s not looking for fireworks, flash, or parade —
Just a love that doesn’t fold when it’s afraid.
Bring your whole heart, don’t perform or pretend,
Sit by the fire. Tell the truth. Begin.
Her hands are steady, her boundaries kind.
She’s a safe place to fall apart and find.
Verse 2
She’s loved sharp souls with porcupine skin,
Held them close, let the quills sink in.
But she’s learning that tending the wild and the free
Don’t require abandoning me.
There’s a quiet strength in the way she stands,
Open palms, but discerning hands.
If you stay, stay soft. If you speak, speak plain.
She’s done translating love from pain.
Bridge
She’s got laughter that rises like summer heat,
And sorrow she carries in bare feet.
But she’s lighter now — not because she’s numb,
Just knows which battles she won’t become.
Final Chorus
No more chasing the almost, the half, the thin.
No more calling chaos “kin.”
She’s building a life that feels like breath —
Where love is warm and doesn’t test.
If you want her heart, understand —
It’s sacred ground.
It’s steady land.
