i am scared
of this, because of the goodness
that oozes from it, i have to
cover my mouth with my hand
to keep it from dripping onto the pavement
flowing down the street
and rolling to a halt in front of you.
i am anxious, ropey intestines
tying themselves into knots,
i can never be the person
you will eventually wish i am
my fear will tear holes in this
my distrust will ruin its beauty,
make it ugly, and i can’t stop
this from happening.
i will never take your words
lightly, with ease or joy,
allow them to blow like a gust
of wind
around my heart, lifting it up, moving it gently.
there are things about myself i cannot undo or recreate.
they are gone, and i am heavier without them. part of me
does not want you to be able to shoulder this weight. i want you
to crack and strain and tell me everything i already know about myself.
i am scared
that you will prove me wrong.