what's the risk?

I wanted to ask you for your permission.


I’ve knocked on this door too many times 
before, each time it showed up a different
 color or texture, each time opening up to 
a different object, but each time I always 
found my heart pinned to whatever I opened
 the door to:

and I didn’t want to knock
 again, I couldn’t bear the thought
 of finding my heart in that condition.
 The further I’ve walked, I started to notice
 hesitation growing along my paths and when 
the sun dipped behind the horizon,

this 
hesitation glowed, as if it was telling 
me where to go, and I didn’t want to follow 
it but it’s where my feet carried me,


I felt like I was a prisoner, shackled 
to the inevitability of uncertainty and
 fear of rejection and commitment mixed 
in a solution of desire.

I have no idea 
what I’m doing anymore, or where I’m going, 
or how to find my way back. How many times 
have I lent my trust to the wrong set
of hands, only for it to be thrown
 back in my face like a dirty rag. 

Am I
 making any sense or am I standing out
in desolation alone?

 I don’t want to find
 my destination without you, 

I want my 
journey to be with you.

So am I just afraid 
or am I trying to convince myself that 
what I see in you is what I’ve desired?


What’s the risk?