At the times when I feel that things may be coming together the best, I suddenly take a dive for the worst. This is my least treasured attribute. The rush of despair as hopes sink like a brick upon the waves, despite bright circumstances. The risks of opening ones’ heart are vast and I don’t like where they take me. It seems that whenever I am near to the point of letting someone in, I want to draw up again, feel nothing, keep going. With vast emotion I shall face the storm, tender to one, unsure of the consequences. You now have me where it hurts the worst and I love the best – be gentle I beg you; despite my flirty facade and frivolous attitude I can only bare a little before tears.

I don’t know why, I don’t know how – there is no explanation of the way I feel. Wonderment and crushing despair. Joy and burning fear, love and running cowardice. Slain now I lie here at your feet prepared for the worst hopes of love and care, or the turning away in distaste. I am yours, I hate to admit (and seldom will). When the shell has cracked and the yolk runs out I’ll be here to gather it up if I’m not broken first. I lash back and before its done regret floods over me. And confusion is all I have left.

The longing of love, the distaste of want. Left to ones devices I crumble.