With the soft knocking
of your palm against my fingers,
the door into my heart,
I think not-so-carefully
about letting you in

And as I move to the threshold
I find the door already slightly ajar
so I reach out to touch you
and feel your heartbeat move through my veins

You don't touch back
but do not move from beneath my hands
and I know you are telling me
to take it slow
because my favorite thing to do
is run when I'm told to walk
and I always feel
as though I'm running out of time

I take a breath or two
and do not look at you for too long
in case you disappear
while I am too busy blinking