Passion

  Walking into the dark, I hear him behind me.  Following every step that I make has become his priority.  He is the only person that I can depend upon and trust with my life.  In the shadows, he proclaims his love for me and I listen to the words that he says with faith as my heart beats passionately inside of my chest.  The crisp and cold air of the night fills my lungs and I am tortured not to touch him.  I walk away, back into the fray hoping that he will follow, knowing that all along I have been the one.  There is a strange sweetness to the night.  Flowers blossoming before their time.  Picking daisies when I was a child, just to watch them blow into the wind like fine and fragile hints of promises kept.  When I arrive home, he is there waiting and watching.  I unlock the door, but I never invite him inside.  Tonight, I wonder if I am making a mistake.  Held at bay, from my distant arms he waits for me to return to fight and to hunt but I am still in awe of his declarations and so, I carry his words with me as they creep about the walls of my home indifferent to what I need or to what I want, only projecting these letters that form the words that he knows I want to hear.  How long have I secretly waited for this?  There is hidden, a flame forged by everything we have been through together, by every word spoken, by what can never be undone and as I open my front door I think of what is impossible.  And I let him inside.