I get to know him, little by little
I sit with a chisel in my hand, chipping away at years of guard
I dance around questions I want to ask
I hesitate each time I want to touch
I am afriad if it is too much, if I leave cracks if I hit too hard
So, I sit patiently and chisel at his guard
I wish we were friends, that I could have just known
I wish I didnt have to flirt with the lines drawn in sand, the absolute unknown
I wish I didn’t have to retreat, reappear, reassure and resume my chisel
I wish I knew him from before
When will I accumulate enough yesterdays to comfortably fall back on?
Till then, do we dance to the tune of getting to know each other?
Can we make it a little easier?
Can you come a little closer, speak a little louder, stay a bit longer?
Leave a Reply