when we're laying in bed together,
sharing the darkest parts of ourselves,
i am shaking.
there are things about myself i cannot even face,
and the things about you have me feeling...

the things
about
you
have me so
terrified.


i want to love you but i just don't know if i can.
i want to love you, but i don't know
if i could cope with losing you.


you are always the first one to reach out to hold my hand.
sometimes all i can do is curl into you
and hide from the day, and you welcome me in with open arms
and absent kisses across my temple.
you laugh when i tell jokes and you tell me that i'm beautiful,
sweet, lovely - things i cannot even tell myself -
and i am left disarmed and contemplating and so stupidly happy.


you are half asleep and delusional from *******
when i finally say it.
"i love you so much that it scares me."
you're giggling in the most innocent way, and whisper "why does it scare you?"
and all i can do is smile and give you a kiss.


in the morning when you drive me home, you look at me.
"it scares me, too."


it is a month later.
i can feel your breath caressing my neck,
and it is warm, and soft, and comforting in a way
that i think only you can be.
when i roll over to kiss you, you are half asleep
and the edges of your lips are tilted upwards
in the laziest of smiles.
and in that moment
i am sure.