New

My hand in yours fits warmly -
Strange but safe. I feel
Happy...?
Something almost familiar.

Damn. I was once good at this.
Joy used to be easy, not scary. 

You. Lovely you.
Kind you. Darling you.

 Your lips taste sweet, they taste new.
They trace desire; gently
Drape affection
Over older sorrows.

 Fingers run softly
Over scars, old wounds.
Almost soothing -
If I let them soothe.

Can I? Should I?
Is it safe?

Trust feels foreign, as does joy.
Simple could not be more complicated.

Your hair. Your eyes.
How easy this is.
Terrifyingly easy.
Skin on skin, sleepy smiles.
Oh lord, that grin.

 My heart trembles.
Tumbles.                                                             Oh no.
No, no. NO!

Bloody hell.
 
Love plays peekaboo -
Boo staying one beat longer than peek.

I wish
Songs were a simple transaction again,
Given lightly
From me to you.
Weightless messages of affection,
Longing, and yes, love.

But you're healing too.

It's too soon.
Slow down.

So
What do I do with
This heart in my hands?
This faltering hope in my eyes
That first hides,
Then shyly slips out
Dissolving into tears
That come
Without warning?

 I can feel it.
The warmth, the comfort,
Present, but not quite yet.
- Shall we kill them at birth, then?

Why do I want to escape? Sigh.
Staying is hard.

Wait.

Maybe...
We could take it
Step by step? 
Stay in the moment?
Enjoy the present?
That's what
They're telling us
To do.
Maybe that'll work?

Fear rears up.
Snaps
Sharp teeth
At hope, at love.
Wins the battle.

Loses the war.

                                 Please,
                                                          Won't you
                   Stay?
                                                                                                    

~ACM (03 March 2020)


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