I’m scared
Of being open,
Of letting myself
relax
Enough to feel your touch,
Is it real?
Is this real?
Or just another illusion?
I can’t be,
won’t be,
taken for a fool,
again,
I leave my heart out,
But watch from a distance,
Guarded,
Prepared to snatch it back,
Should your ways appear
Less than
My heart,
She still hurts,
Weight of the past
Pulling,
With each beat,
Beating still,
Beating for you,
But I don’t trust anything anymore,
Familiar places and faces
Are now foreign to me,
Unfamiliar the motions,
For this dance of courtship
Is awkward,
And yet it pulls
Like a magnet,
The force making “us” natural,
Still
This heart she weeps,
Riddled With battle wounds,
This
is going to take
Some time.
She of Letters 