Only partially there; has anyone even noticed? Slowly, I'm disintegrating, giving myself to you, tiny pieces breaking away from my skin, floating away on the wind, seeking your body, trying to find a home in your heart. Could you open the door before I beat my fists bloody against it? Before I disappear completely? I feel your eyes meet mine and I know that there's a chance. All those bits of me that are banging on your door are the promises I'm making to you. Soon there'll be nothing left of me, only promises and hopes that you and I will fall into this thing called love, still somewhat a fable to my skeptic's mind. But I'm sure I could believe in it if you were to take my hand and show me.
I'll press my fingertips slightly into your skin, the only points of pressure between our two bodies, but we'll not need more, for our eyes will be locked. I'll drown in the depths of yours. I'll skim my fingertips down your arm, caressing your skin, skating across it, afraid to break the fragile moment. You'll smile; my heart will flutter. You'll lean close and press your lips to mine, and we'll find ourselves in the midst of that fairytale land.
We need a beginning, and I cannot while away behind this invisible wall of fear as neither of us take the steps which will lead us to something more. We cannot be errant leaves on a breeze forever. I want to find my home. I want to know if you could be mine. It's hard to be someone, but I could do it for you. Let us take our chances?