I’m so scared that the right thing to do is walk away from you,
though I know that you’re not going anywhere.
Because I am.
I can’t stay here and somehow I fear that our orbits aren’t quite ready to collide.
But whatever happens, I’ll abide.
Paths cross,
lines intersect,
tales weave themselves of details intrinsic, incidental and integral.

Integrated, these meditative thoughts of what might be get caught up in the coulds and woulds and lose sight of what’s right in the shoulds.
What should I do? Run to you and hope that our timing is bang on? That carving a path is the same as allowing it to make itself known? To be shown the way without delay because I’ve been waiting a lifetime’s worth of unrequited lovestory pop songs for something that feels like you do.

But if it’s meant to be, it can’t help but do exactly that, right?
I mean, that’s it’s only fucking job.
Be.
Does it matter when? Or where? I know how much I want it to be here and now (and how!) and how much I miss the featherlight kiss, the way your words make me sigh with bliss, reminisce of times we had leisure to explore the possibilities of who we were apart and more, who we are together.
Birds of a weird and silly feather, you and I. No point in trying to deny what seems like fate and for the most part, feels great.
I’ll never underestimate your innate ability to make me smile.
Every fucking time.
How you respond to all my brilliant rhymes, in kind
How when you whispered, “mine”
I knew.
It was completely
fucking
true.

I have to trust, be patient,
thrust as I am into the role of the girl (me) no one else can be.
Adventure will come calling, as though we’re kin.
So I’ll cast these thoughts to the wind,
arms spread,
the weight of my head
light.
Free of worry and concern
that my fortune lay under stone unturned.

And if by chance I walk away,
doesn’t mean I stop hoping for a day
When fate sees fit to follow through
And the road I ramble leads to you.