the moon and my heart

I am afraid that I cannot love.

That it isn't what I was made for.

For when I do, I love with all of me, but I have none of me left to share.

I have never had much of me that I could share, and in the moments that I did, it always slipped through my fingers, like ice on a winter day.

Like my heart is made of snow and everyone's hands are far too hot.

It is a grand shame too, for my dreams whisper to me than I can, and that one day I will, but I am far too much of a realist to believe any sickly-sweet murmurs.

Your eyes are far too pretty, they glimmer even on this gloomy night.

The pavement beneath us isn’t that comfortable, at all, but you say you don’t mind it.

You say you don’t mind a lot when it comes to me.

My icy heart is leaping out of my chest, it wants only your warmth, a hold it knows will crush it in a matter of minutes.

Do you mean the words you say? When you look in my eyes, do you see another's? What goes on in your mind, is there anything I need to know?

Tell me, please, I am afraid of the dark and it is a new moon tonight.

Tell me, please, for I cannot handle deceit or disappointment, the only things that burn me more than your hands.

I want to be God.

I want to be so high that I am but a speck in others' peripheries.

They know it is me but they can’t be certain.

A being so close yet so far.

You see my silhouette but the fog is much too thick; you cannot call out for me for you're not sure that's who it is.

But you think of me, and you do so often. And I don't have to give up my heart for it, and we don't have to sit on rocky pavements, and it is sunny now, too, and everything is okay.