When you walk into that shared space and I know I must protect myself. But so close, in a knife-edge glimmer, I am prostrate. I will be shallow-grave cold or pliable supplicant. And cannot choose. I would be stood in the shadowlands of a quietened distance as your most loyal cheerleader, or walk beside you to the ends of the earth. It is a confusion of uninhibited moments, and the guarded reflex of a soul still scarred.
And how can I gift you the very connection that will hook you to my heart, when I am contracting and censoring at every spoken word. The sacrifice such cost. We pledge an intimacy without rehearse, as easily as it was, yet more truthful somehow. Barely acknowledged. Though you push for my thoughts, I cower. Braveness deserts me each time. Honesty gives you escape and I dare not cue that departure. Best you walk of your own accord. Again. When you’ve taken what you need. Not a plunder, for it is presented freely. And you know it. But there will be bereavement. And my heart may not make it through that jungle-dark experience quite so wholly this time.
Or indeed, maybe the healing begun, is now my coping and you will not hear the hushed whisper of my dreams. Locked down behind my eyes. And I will not feel you leave me or worry at your retreating footsteps. For you will retrace. When you are ready. And we know it.

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