My fear
is in getting to know you.
For in those moments of conversation
when I begin to see you more clearly,
I may discover I am not
the loving person I imagine myself to be.
Not loving. Me. Now I’ve said it.
My safety
is my silence and quiet refusal
to stand beside you when you need me or I need you.
I hold my breath tightly, silently,
trying to stop love from moving through me,
giving trouble a solid place to stand.
Forgetting that, like water,
love moves through all things.
Like the tides, it washes over dry souls who wait.
If I could have one thing,
just one thing different,
it would be to touch that stone-cold part of my soul
and give it light.
To walk, wet and shivering,
out of the river of fear
with a heart that no longer needs to hide.
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