I walk on glass, afraid to break
the careful peace I’ve tried to make.
Each word I speak, each move I choose
feels like a line I’m scared to lose.
I hold my breath, I check, rewind,
searching for faults I hope you won’t find.
One slip, one step, and I might see
the end of you, the end of me.
Your love’s a gift I barely trust,
so pure and deep, so fierce and just.
Yet here I am, afraid I'll scar
the thing I need, the thing you are.
But love’s not glass, it’s tough and true,
so maybe there's space for me and you—
for flawed and broken, for trying again,
to build a love that fear can’t bend.
