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.