the thought of the possibility

this fear of fleeting fancy
its long thin fingers
grasping around my throat
my heart
the inevitable crush of
trust and hope
i am sufficated by
my own mind
by insufficient self-assurance
being told that you are good enough
and that you deserve it
is a far different beast than belief

-------------

the thought of the possibility
that maybe this will turn out right
is comfort and contentment made
almost tangible and true

and my head was throbbing only
hours ago but the pain subsided
when i just let go of all the questions
threatening to sweep me away

in my self-made chaos
i have always reigned supreme
lost in unhappy thought and
sleepless nights - starving by day

but in the end what it all washes away to
is how strong am i to fight this fear
how heady will the reward be
and how willing am i to let him close

-------------

the door swings off its hinges
like a drunken sailor dressed in white
no anger of mine caused this
(though the anger i have stored
over the years could level
an entire city if let loose)
apparently my small pale arms
hold more strength than i had thought
and apparently my wayward tongue
is not as frightening and unbearable
as i had been led to believe