Octobral Memory

I want to run into you at a coffee shop, that is also a book store, in the middle of reading a poem, we stumble across each other, five years later. Our bones light up, we can literally see the trembling in each other. The longing. I am getting close to something, I can feel it. 

It is saying I miss you. And softening. When the hard really wants to harden and push away. 

I am afraid of feeling in front of you, in showing you my feelings, in being vulnerable in going deep with you because that is where feeling exists … because you say ` emotions are too much for me. i do not want this emotional experience.` 

this kills us. this kills us. 

I will continue to be vulnerable, even to the end. Even if I encounter a cold heart. I will continue to bear my beating, tender, emotional soul. 

I will allow myself to be hopelessly in love with you. And uncomfortably vulnerable. 

What is the grief that surrounds your cold heart?