In the quiet spaces between
moments,
I feel the weight of possibility.
Love, a distant shore,
glimmering with promise,
yet obscured by the fog of memory.

I stand on the edge,
toes curling over the precipice,
wondering if the leap
will lead to flight or fall.

In your eyes, I see a universe,
uncharted, vast, inviting.
But the heart is a fragile vessel,
bruised by the tempests of yesterday,
hesitant to set sail again.

I trace the lines of your face
with my gaze, cautious,
as if touching something sacred
might unravel the safety of solitude.

To love is to risk,
to open wounds long closed,
to invite joy and sorrow
into the sanctuary of the soul.

I am afraid,
not of you, but of myself,
of the unknown terrain
that love demands I traverse.

Yet there is a pull,
a quiet urging from within,
to step into the light,
to let go of the fear,
and trust the journey ahead.