By chance did the opportunity arise--
while raining, both giddy from the night.
By history did I predict the what you would say--
just not today.
The fear arises from a place in my heart
I am ashamed I keep. A fear,
a place of mistrust, a part
that I am unsure will ever disappear.
The lack of initiation makes me question
the dedication
to me. To us. But, mostly me.
I have made it far too easy.
Everything just fell into your hands--
I: always the accommodating one,
and you: nothing to fight for, nothing to plan.
Look at what that has done.
Still, I am afraid of finishing the train of thought;
I can't even be truthful without feeling caught--
bound by my own insecurity,
but mostly the certainty
that for me, I will be unfulfilled.
For you, you will have what you will.
For us, there's not a way to tell.
But for mostly me, I fell.
