Tentative

It’s like this tiny little hiccup in my heart.  I don’t know if my heart is skipping a beat.  I’m too scared to really feel it, to really listen to what it’s saying.

Sometimes, when you smile at me I have to fight the knowledge that I could fall for you.  It would be so easy.  You hold my hand through the night. You sigh deeply in your sleep.  Sometimes my eyelids flutter awake to a butterfly kiss on my forehead.  Yes, it would be easy.

You caress my cheek while we talk politics. You respect my opinion and you share your ideas. You eat yogurt because I can’t eat ice cream. You have private jokes with yourself. Yeah, I could fall.

But I’m holding back.

Sometimes, my fingers would twitch to reach out for you.  Sometimes, my lips would part to whisper your name.  Sometimes, my eyes dance away from your gaze.

I can’t and won’t step over that edge.

Because I know you won’t be there to catch my fall. 

Because I know I’m not fearless of the fall anymore.

For now, I walk the tightrope. Each step is tentative.  It’s small. It’s unsure.  I know at some point I’ll have to fall and hope you will catch me, or turn back and bail before I fall from grace.

Which will it be?

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