Afraid

I am deathly afraid of you

Because you’re the only one walking this Earth that looks into my eyes and sees what He sees.

You see a perfectly flawed vessel and still desire to know her.

What are you?

I’m afraid of you.

Afraid that I might trust you enough to give you my heart in its’ purest condition

Afraid that you’ll begin to hate its’ imperfections or possibly pretend all too well that you’re ready to handle it because you love it’s case.

You’d be like a child with a brand new toy that you’ve begged for, for months

Just to grow tired of it. And instead of giving it to someone else who could appreciate it, YOU, you destroy it.

You abuse it. You manipulate it. You place it on the cold, dirty, and rugged floor for it to be trampled on by strangers.

Then when you’re feeling generous, you dust it off and try to remember all the reasons why you once loved it. Why you ever needed it in the first place.

You stare at it, holding it. Wrestling with the thoughts of whether or not it’s worth cleaning off and loving it again. Is it worth fixing?

How dare you. How dare you enter my life, completely uninvited, disrupting the journey I was on in finding and loving a better me?

 So instead of opening my mouth and my heart and giving love a chance and stand up to shout from the rooftops that I love you…I keep quiet. Because if you never know that I love you, you will never have the chance to hurt me.

I love you and it’s possible that you may love me too. It’s possible that we could do unimaginably beautiful things.

But I am deathly afraid of you. 

Snowstorms

I imagine that I would love to dance in the snow with you. Most people love dancing in the rain, as do I, but it's something about the snow that makes me realize how tantalizing this love is. The snow is fierce. It falls gently, beautifully, quietly, and gracefully. But as it continues to fall it gets harder and locks us in. It packs thicker and creates more depth than we assume we can bear. I envision that we are stuck. We could be smart though, you know, and do like most people and just go in the house, take off our soggy clothes, and lay before the T.V. because "that's too deep" or it may "hurt too much" to have to stand there and look face to face and to be completely naked with who we are possibly realizing that we don't even love each other at all. Just the idea of having someone at all. But we love the snow; so we stay. And we stare endlessly into each other's eyes and absorb one another. Experiencing a collision with one another's flaws, but still finding strength to move our feet in a waltz.
I want to dance in the snow with you because no matter how hard it is to push through, we will. No matter how frozen I become, your love is a flame that burns every fear of not being accepted away. No matter how crunchy it may seem or how imperfectly round our snowballs are, they are ours. No matter how lopsided our snow man is, it doesn't matter, it's ours.
See, the thing about rain is that shortly after, there is sunshine, a rainbow, a sign that all the trouble is over. When a snow storm is over, everything is just beginning and even when the sun comes out to melt everything away we are still left with a mess. A mess that everyone hates and no one wants to deal with. But I [still] want to dance in the snow with you. From the beginning of the first snow flurry when everything is sweet and exciting to end of nothing but built up black ice that everyone is annoyed with. I still will be smiling, marveled by every breath you take, hoping that you are holding out your hand asking, "May I have this dance?"